


Details

by Lady Dae (Daephraelle)



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Songfic, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-12
Updated: 2010-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daephraelle/pseuds/Lady%20Dae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breathe In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the songs from Frou Frou's album, _Details_. The song's aren't in order, I sorted them as needed for the story arc. _Breathe In_ is track 2 on the album and the lyrics for all the songs on _Details_ can be found [here](http://www.lyricsmania.com/details_album_lyrics_frou_frou.html).

He’s licking his lips again, unconsciously of course but that doesn’t stop Zach from wondering how the habit formed. All sorts of deviant images flood into his head at the thought – stains on his lips perhaps? Sweet or salty residue wrapped around that sinful tongue. Or perhaps it’s to wet his lips, the sheen of moisture a trail across the arches of those soft pads. All that wetness, making them glide, so smoothly over hot skin, hotter muscle, his breath a cool accompaniment as that tongue darts out again to lave trails across goose-pimpled skin.  
“Zach?”  
Chris is sitting across from him in an unremarkable chair, the lights of the interview room casting beguiling shadows over his neck and the hollow of his throat. He’s shooting Zack the strangest look, half question, half warning and Zach realises that it wasn’t Chris that called his name. The interviewer is asking him a question and Zach hasn’t heard a word.  
“I’m sorry,” he smiles, “what was the question?”  
The interviewer smiles back brightly, all positivity and plastic.  
“What was it like working with Chris on the set?”  
Okay, keep it together, Quinto. Stop looking over at him and just answer the damn question. You’ve done this before why the hell is this time any different? But of course, this time it is different, Zach knows it and as well as he can read himself, it’s outclassed by the way he can read Chris. Every breath now, means something more than it did a month ago. Every turn of the head and lift of the eyebrow is invested with meaning and Zach has finally found the code.  
“Yeah, it was great. I mean, we work very well together and that was really necessary with two roles like Kirk and Spock. You can’t fake good chemistry and that goes for the rest of the cast as well, we all got on great. I think you’ll see that on the screen.”  
It’s a stock reply, well used and amazingly sincere, especially since it isn’t entirely accurate. A few weeks into to shooting he and Chris had nearly come to blows when the building stress of the work, combined with the fact that he and Chris were both pretty much alpha males for lack of a better word, had exploded in what Zoe called a ‘shitstorm of wounded male ego’. Ironically, it had been the best thing that could have happened, clearing the air and allowing both men a better understanding of each other. It also planted the seeds of what Zach is now considering a full-blown crush.  
The interviewer asks Chris a question and for the life of him, Zach can’t tell what it is she’s said because as he goes to answer, Chris takes a breath and all of Zach previous life is wiped from his mind. He could ride that breath for days, the voiceless sound so Chris that Zach anticipates the lick of the lips before Chris’ tongue even leaves his mouth. Then he’s speaking but Zach isn’t listening to the words, he’s listening to the breath and the shift of Chris’ body, the way his hand rests on his thigh before raising up and running through his spiky hair. Before he knows it, Zach’s smiling – that special kind of grin that’s reserved for the besotted and Zach knows he has to rein it in. Chris may be straight but he isn’t a fool, he’ll recognise that look – he’s seen it before from Zach and Zach knows that if he sees it again he won’t be able to let it go. Even as he tries to morph his face into a more interview-appropriate expression, Zach knows it’s too late, he can read that body like he owns it and Chris is going to turn his head now and look over at Zach, including him in the conversation. Chris’s eyes flicker ever so slightly as they take in Zach’s smile, fading now but he keeps talking, not the slightest hesitation in his voice. Even as something inside Zach breaks, he can’t help but admire the will Chris possesses to separate feeling from expression when he has an audience.

Zach can’t really remember the rest of the interview and soon the bouncy plastic lady is leaving and they have a five-minute break before the next one comes in. Zach wants to say something while they aren’t being recorded but Chris beats him to it.  
“We have less than three minutes before we’re back so let’s make this quick. Whatever it is you’re doing, stop it. I’ve told you before but I dunno, maybe I wasn’t clear enough. I’m not interested in... whatever it is that you want from me. So... just rein it in man, okay? You have to stop this. Now.”  
With that, the next interviewer arrives and any response Zach wants to make is denied. Chris is once again all ease and smiles but Zach can read the subtext and it’s screaming at him to toe the line. And if Zach looks closely enough, he can see the quieter murmurs of confusion and anger washing through Chris’ body, all laced together with the quiet wish that Zachary would just... go away.

The interviewer is speaking to camera for her show’s pre record and the gears of the industry are churning into motion once more.  
“Hi guys! We’re back and we’re taking your calls...”  
This time for Zach, there are no questions that need repeating.


	2. It's Good To Be In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the songs from Frou Frou's album, _Details_. _It's Good To Be In Love_ is track 3 on the album and the lyrics for all the songs on _Details_ can be found [here](http://www.lyricsmania.com/details_album_lyrics_frou_frou.html).

The lights from the living room were drawing strange shadows on the night-dark concrete of the front yard and Zach found his mind insisting that he spend precious minutes deciphering the mysterious shapes, instead of heading into the party where he would be forced to confront a painful truth. He would have happily spent the rest of the night staring into the darkness if he hadn’t heard the sound of someone opening the high, wrought iron gate behind him and heading up the path. Moving quickly forward, Zach bounded up the steps, his tight black jeans making every leap a calculated move. Reaching the front door, he took a deep breath and knocked sharply. The murmurs of the party swelled as the door swung open and Zach was presented with a slightly inebriated Chris, framed in the tarnished-gold light of his hallway. It had been six months since they had last seen each other and time had added another layer of awkwardness on top of what had already been formed by Zach’s ill-advised crush.

“Hey.” Said Chris, his eyes blearily adjusting to the darkness.  
“Hey.” Zach replied because really, there was nothing that they could say to each other that wouldn’t make things worse. Zach knew that he should hope for a return to the easy friendship that they once had but it would be a lie. He wanted more.  
They stood there in awkward silence for a few seconds before Chris silently motioned for Zach to come in. The warmth and light washed over Zach in a riot of bright colours as he made his way into Chris’ house and he paused for a moment, his hand on the frame of the living room door.  
“Zach!”  
It was Zoe, standing by the long table, its gaudily draped top fairly groaning with food and drink. Zoe herself was looking gorgeous as usual, her tiny form draped elegantly in spider-silk black.  
“Hey Zoe, haven’t seen you in a while. How’ve you been?”  
Zoe began to regale Zach with her life for the past two months but Zach’s gaze was strobing the room, searching for his host. Finally, he found him standing with a glass of wine in his hand, chatting to four or five people that Zach didn’t know. His smile was infectious, even from this distance and Zach had to pinch his thigh hard in order to stop himself from grinning.  
Chris looked so beautiful in his inebriety, his steel-blue jeans matching his eyes perfectly. A flash of something close to jealousy whispered through Zach’s mind at that – Chris was, at the best of times, hopeless when it came to colour coordination. The fact that he looked so stunningly organised tonight was yet another piece of proof that he was off the market and out of Zach’s reach. His shirt was definitely designer, although Zach couldn’t pin down the exact label, and its simple, vertically striped pattern in light blues, greys and greens made Zach feel as though he was dressed in track pants and a t-shirt that he’d found in a dumpster.

The night moved on and Zach tried not to look at Chris too much and instead made his way through the scurf of old and new friends, laughing when he was supposed to and nodding solemnly when he wasn’t. Eventually, however, Zach found himself so near to Chris that it would have been rude to ignore him. Bracing himself he turned around, only to see Chris with his arms wrapped around his thin, blonde girlfriend, his face buried in the side of her neck and her perfectly coiffed platinum locks cascading over his own, dark blond hair.  
Every muscle in Zach’s body froze painfully, every one but his heart, which seemed to be racing so fast that the colours of the room were beginning to slide together like paint on a palette. He knew she would be here, in fact, she had probably been here the whole time but Zach had blocked her out with his awesome Superpowers of Denial. Now she was unavoidable. Her sparkly white dress was like a beacon, an evil beacon, announcing to the whole world that she had won what Zach could not. Every saccharine smile she gave sliced at Zach and his thin facade of calm until he was almost visibly shaking with... Zach couldn’t even put a name to the emotions that were screaming around inside him.  
Then her laughing eyes locked with his and they slid from carefree to territorial. Zach pressed on anyway – to turn around now and walk away would be the height of cowardice and if there was one thing that Zachary Quinto was not, it was a coward.  
“It’s... Zach, right?” The blonde asked, feigning ignorance.  
“Yeah,” Zach replied. “and you’re?...”  
“Michelle.” She said with absolute superiority, lengthening the ‘m’ and Zach concluded – ‘model’, or something equally vacuous, yet important enough in her eyes for her to consider Zach and herself on equal footing.  
Chris finished whatever conversation he had been having with what looked like a Producer of some sort and turned to Zach and... Mmmichelle.  
“Oh, so you two’ve finally met.”  
Zach and the white witch smiled falsely at each other.  
“Yeah, we’ve just been swapping ID tags.”  
Chris snorted with laughter and Zach figured that he’d made the trip from tipsy to drunk sometime during the evening.  
“So?” Chris asked, raising his eyebrows at Zach. “Whaddya think of her?”  
“Chris!” Michelle squealed in mock outrage. “I’m not a new toy to show off to your friends!”  
Chris grinned back at her, all alcohol and unrestrained emotion and Zach could see that it was love, actual love that Chris felt for Michelle. They’d been dating for four months or so from what Zach had gleaned from mutual friends and he had assumed that it was nothing special, just an ordinary cohesion of dates and sex and conversation. But this look – Chris, stripped of all his reserve unabashedly beaming with... love... Zach hadn’t expected this, wasn’t prepared for it. Now he had to play the good friend, the supportive buddy who doesn’t point out the gaping personality flaws in his friend’s girl, who’s happy for him. Unreservedly happy.  
“I think she’s lovely Chris. I’m so happy for you, for both of you.”  
Chris flashed Zach a genuine smile, one so clear of hesitation that Zach felt as though he’d been punched. So this is what it took to get him back. Realisation hit Zach at about the same time as the phantom fist. He was safe now. Chris was safe from Zach and what ever he had wanted from him. In a steady relationship, with a girl he loved – all he had needed was Zach’s acceptance and all the bad feeling was gone. Because Zach was safe again and Chris could be friends with him once more, without the worrying threat of Captain Subtext lurking in every stilted conversation.

And Zach was happy. He was happy to see Chris so content. He was happy that they could now salvage their friendship. Most of all, he was happy that Chris was in love because it really suited him, just like everything always did. It didn’t matter that Zach felt like a shabby intruder in a glittering crowd of butterflies, as long as Chris was happy. He supposed, in the end that love was exactly that – the need to see the one you care for happy, even at the cost of your own pleasure. So Zach stayed happy, even though he felt bruised all over, even though he felt like his clothes were someone else’s rags.  
He stayed happy, even when the party was over and he wandered back out into the sparkling darkness of the night and left all the colours of the world behind with Chris...


	3. Psychobabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the songs from Frou Frou's album, _Details_. _Psychobabble_ is track 5 on the album and the lyrics for all the songs on _Details_ can be found [here](http://www.lyricsmania.com/details_album_lyrics_frou_frou.html).

It was nearly six weeks after Chris’ blowout party and he was still finding fluff-covered pastries under the couch cushions and empty beer bottles in the bushes of his front yard. He knew he could just point them out to his lovely cleaning lady but really, it took a certain kind of laziness to walk past the same bottle four or five times – waiting for someone else to inevitably pick it up. Luckily, garbage night had been two days after the party – Chris had counted at least four bags stacked by his already overflowing bins and the smell had quickly become... unpleasant. Michelle had complained about the ‘horrifying stench’ for much of those two days and Chris had resorted to kissing her in order to distract her, until she stopped talking and started kissing him back.  
A clinking of glasses from the kitchen and Chris was reminded that the woman in question was currently making them a cocktail that she had ‘discovered’ last night at a club that for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the name of.  
“You alright, honey?”  
A pause as the fridge door opened and closed.  
“Yeah, baby I’m fine. It’s just a little hard to juggle all these bottles!”  
Chris grinned to himself; she was always so bright and bubbly, even when she was annoyed.  
“Why don’t you try grabbing them one at a time, then?”  
“Why don’t you come out here and help me?!”  
“I thought this was supposed to be a surprise for me,” he said, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. “Don’t you want to knock me head over heels with this fabulous new creation?”  
“Oh yeah... Don’t come in here until I tell you!”  
Shoving the cushions to one side, Chris threw himself unceremoniously onto the couch. Hooking on leg over the other, he laced his hands behind his head and entertained himself by looking for patterns in the ceiling as he listened to Michelle swish around the kitchen.

\----------------------------

It was well past three in the morning when the phone rang. Staring owlishly at the glowing readout of his watch, Chris stifled a yawn and rolled over to see Michelle fast asleep beside him. As he unconsciously licked his lips, he could still taste a whisper of the blueberry sweetness from their earlier, syrupy cocktails. His phone continued to burrow its way into his brain via his ear canal and he stumbled as quickly as he could into the hall before it woke Michelle as well.  
“’lo?”  
“... Chris?”  
“Who’zis?”  
“S’me, Zach.”  
“Zach?” Sudden images of friends in hospital beds flooded his vision and adrenaline kicked him all the way awake. “What wrong, what’s happened? Is it Joe? Or Zoe? Are you okay?”  
What sounded like bitter laughter danced along the phone line and Chris quickly swapped hands, pressing the phone to his left ear.  
“No, I’m _fine_! I’m _always_ fine, aren’t I? I’m the Queen of Fineness!”  
A fit of giggles followed the sarcastic comments and Chris felt his concern washing away in the face of something darker.  
“Then why are you calling, Zach?” Chris asked in precise tones.  
A sniff and a shuffling of movement on Zach’s end.  
“Why not?”  
Chris stood there in his track pants, his bare feet chilly on the caramel coloured floorboards and he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.  
“It’s twenty to four, Zach. It’s generally the rule not to call people in the middle of the night unless it’s an emergency.”  
“’Tis a remergency.”  
Chris wondered for a moment if alcohol fumes could be transferred across phone lines before deciding the take the well-trodden path of the fucking obvious.  
“You’re drunk.”  
“W’zat a question?”  
“No.”  
“Good, coz I’m sick of answering questions. Fucking three months of the same fucking questions over and over. So sick and tired of it. So sick and tired’ve everything Chris.”  
Another twinge and a spark of adrenaline and Chris squeezed the phone a little harder in his grasp.  
“You mean the press tour? The movie stuff, right?”  
A pause.  
“Mmm, not just that. I’m sick of having the answer when no one, when _someone_ won’t ask me the question.”  
“Oh Zach,” Chris sighed. “I know you’re a miserable drunk but you don’t normally stoop to waking up your buddies for a midnight -- _beyond_ midnight chat.”  
“C’n I come over?”  
Chris pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against, swiping a painting as he did so and sending it swinging wildly from side to side.  
“No, Zach! Of course you’re not coming over! It’s nearly four in the morning and Michelle’s in bed asleep. Which is where I should be by the way.”  
“Please?”  
“No, you drunk bastard! Come round tomorrow when you’re sober and hung over. You can apologise to me then and we can get pissed together.”  
“...Wanna see you now.”

The frustration returned but now it had brought a friend, a feeling that Chris had thought laid to rest months ago when they had still been on the press circuit. A shaky, uncomfortable sensation of vulnerability and... Fear. Basic, instinctual fear that someone wasn’t whom you thought they were, who you wanted them to be.  
“You can’t come over, Zach.” Chris stated with no small amount of steel in his voice. He hoped it covered the thinner strands of fear that had threaded their way through his words.  
“Coz of Mmmmmmmichelle? Huh.” Zach scoffed.  
“Don’t say her name like that. And yes because of her.” ‘I don’t want you anywhere near her in the state you’re in,’ he thought to himself.  
“Where’re my keys?”  
“Zach? Zach! Snap out of it. You’re too drunk to drive. Anyway we only live a couple of minutes apart, _not_ that that makes a difference, you still can’t come over.”  
“Can’t find ‘em, Noah’ll have to do.”  
“Huh? Zach, you’re not making any sense,” said Chris but he was talking to a dial tone. Placing the phone very carefully back into its cradle, he ran a hand through his bed hair. Would he come? Zach was pretty decisive when it came down to it. He could just keep the front door locked and go back to bed, see if he had a dead or unconscious body on his front step in the morning? Padding back to the bedroom he could see the long, shapely form of Michelle tangled in the sheets, her chest rising and falling gently. She was a heavy sleeper, maybe if he was careful he could shoo Zach away from the house without waking her up.

Minutes later as he sat on the couch, running things over and over again in his head, the sound of shuffling feet caught his attention. Moving quickly, he headed for the front door and out into the front yard, nearly running into a severely swaying Zach. Grabbing his friend's shoulders before he went ass first into the concrete, Chris forgot for a moment that he and Zach had a problem but he was quickly reminded of the fact when Zach raised his head, bleary eyed and caught sight of Chris’ bare chest. Chris could feel Zach’s gaze trail over his skin and he cursed himself for not thinking to put on a t-shirt when he had the chance. He resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest like a woman covering her breasts but it was a close thing.  
Stepping back and settling for folding his arms in a manly, respect-my-personal-space kind of way, he tried to make eye contact with Zach.  
“I told you not to come.”  
“I had to, got my Dutch courage up ‘n everything.”  
“I think you passed Dutch courage about three hours ago. This is just plain wasted.”  
Zach tried to shrug nonchalantly and nearly tipped over.  
“I had to tell you. I’ve tried doing the... the friend thing, being happy... I can’t do it anymore, I jus’ can’t.”  
“’Friend thing’?”  
Zach shot him a scornful look before falling back into despondency.  
“I just though,” he continued, “that if I told you now, to your face, I might get something _real_ out of you. I mean, before all this you were... different.”  
“Different?”  
“Mmm. You used to touch me – a hand on my shoulder or round my waist, grabbing my wrist when you wanted to show me something. That’s when I thought... I thought maybe... that you were... that you might...”  
Zach had closed his eyes as he said this, his head tilted towards the sky in remembrance. Now he lowered it and looked at Chris.  
“And then... You just closed off, you wouldn’t even _look_ at me anymore. As soon as I tried to... You just became someone else.”  
Chris tried to wrap his head around Zach stumbling explanation.  
“So... because I was friendly, because I treated you like one of the best friends I had, you thought I was gay?”  
Zach stared quietly at Chris.  
“Not necs’sarily gay, just... maybe interested in something. I was just trying to read the signs.”  
“Well you read them wrong,” Chris stated bluntly. “You _were_ wrong. You couldn’t be _more_ wrong. I never gave out these ‘signs’, okay? You just... misunderstood me.”  
“Did I? Did I really?” challenged Zach and with that he took two steps forward and kissed Chris with all the passion of the heartbroken, his hands on either side of Chris’ face, tracing his cheekbones and the rasp of early morning beard as he closed his eyes and tasted blueberry on his lips.  
After a few seconds of paralysis, Chris reared back in shock.  
“What the hell! Were you even listening?! Don’t _ever_ try something like that again! Jesus! I don’t care what your problem is, Zach I’ve had it up to _here_ with it. Oh for Christ’s sake, sit down before you fall down!” Chris exclaimed as Zach’s knees buckled.

He looked so much smaller like that, Chris reflected, as Zach lay sprawled on his side, head down and hands to the pavement, his chest rising and falling in a sharp, uneven rhythm. Zach swiped a self-conscious hand across his eyes as they lay shadowed beneath the dark bangs of his un-gelled hair and Chris felt a moment of rising guilt before he twisted it into anger.  
“Well? Why are you so quiet all of a sudden? Come on, snap out of it Zach, I’m not falling for this. You can’t win, I'm not going to give in.”  
Shivering with intense emotion, Zach’s form straightened as he moved into a kneeling position on the ground, his legs unfolded like a man at prayer. His eyes were blurred with tears now, instead of alcohol and his body was swaying in anguish.  
“Come on then,” Chris baited, “you’re just _dying_ to try me. Say something! SAY SOMETHING!”  
“I LOVE YOU!” Screamed Zach. A moment of stunned silence followed as if Zach couldn't believe he had finally said it. His look of shock though, quickly changed into one of bitterness.  
"Don’t you get it, you bastard? I fucking _love_ you! It’s not about winning, it’s not about surrendering, it’s about the fact that I can’t fucking _breathe_ without you! You think that love is surrender? Then whose _fucking war_ is it, huh?!”  
With that, Zach’s impetus was gone and he folded in on himself, like the shrunken remnants of a deflated balloon until his head was resting on his lap.  
In that moment, Chris forgot why he was so angry with Zach; he forgot all the words that had gone before. All he could hear, all he could register was the sound of very quiet, very intense weeping as Zach simply... gave up.  
Zach had never cried in front of him before. In all the months that they had known each other, nothing had come close to upsetting him this much. And yet he, Chris Pine could reduce this man, who could be _so strong_ and _so proud_ , to tears by doing... what had he done?  
Kneeling before him, Chris tried to get Zach to look up.  
“Zach. _Zach_. Look at me. Please look at me. You’re my best friend, okay? _Please_ look at me!”

He didn’t want to touch him, he didn’t want to cup that jaw and gently raise it, force Zach to meet his gaze. He’ll take it the wrong way, he thought. I just want to _be_ there for him, I just want to stop hurting him, that’s all.  
But he wants more than that, another voice replied. He wants you to cup his jaw and then kiss his tears away, the tears _you_ caused. He wants you to hold him and tell him that he means something to you, something more than a just a ‘friend’.  
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Chris firmly took a hold of Zach’s jaw and forced him to look up.  
“Okay Zach, do just what I tell you and no one’ll get any more hurt tonight, alright? Now, you’re going to stand up and I’m going to stand up with you. Then I’m going to walk you home to make sure you get there, okay? Then you’re going to promise me, _promise me_ that you’ll go to bed and sleep this off, okay?”  
Zach nodded mutely, barely reacting when Chris helped him to rise. Running inside to get shoes and a t-shirt, Chris had a moment of hesitation, as he stood by the door with his shirt half-pulled over his head. But Zach couldn’t stay here and Chris needed to make sure he was safe. He had to know Zach was safe. He owed him that at least.

Zach was slumped against the fence when he returned and they both silently fell into step as they walked out of the gate and down the lamp-lit street. They didn’t talk as they made their way to Zach’s place and they stayed silent as Noah’s barks greeted them at the front door. When Zach turned to Chris and reached out a cold, moon-washed hand, Chris didn’t flinch away, he just kept his own hand still, a few inches away from Zach’s outstretched one, staring at the space between them. Willing Zach not to come any closer because he swore to God, he didn’t know what would happen. He didn’t know how long he could...  
“Better get inside, Zach.”  
Just a nod in reply as the hand fell slowly away.  
So, what do we do now?” Zach asked.  
Chris looked at Zach, who sounded so empty now. He looked at him and he wasn’t sure who it was he saw looking back.  
“I don’t know. I really don’t know,” he replied, looking away.  
The sound of the front door closing was a full stop and Chris began to walk away. Pushing his hands deep into his pockets, he ran his tongue over his lips and tasted... Zach? Certainly not blueberries. And that’s when Chris realised, tongue’s tip paused on the edge of his mouth, that he hadn’t wiped it away. He’d left Zach there on his lips.  
He hadn’t wiped his kiss away.


	4. Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the songs from Frou Frou's album, _Details_. _Let Go_ is track 1 on the album and the lyrics for all the songs on _Details_ can be found [here](http://www.lyricsmania.com/details_album_lyrics_frou_frou.html).

Zach woke to the sound of birds twittering outside his heavily curtained window. Bastards. In his opinion, there was nothing to be chirpy about this morning. Rolling over, he groaned as the whole world seemed to roll with him. The cream sheets of his bed were twisted all around him and he seemed to be fully clothed – he even had his shoes still on, laces tied tight. Shuddering up onto one elbow, Zach blearily tried to focus on the light-dimmed room surrounding him. Everything looked as it had the night before, when he had decided to drown his feelings in what now felt like a sea of alcohol. But... something else had happened last night. He hadn’t just been trashed; he’d decided to... do something. Something that even the persistent throb in his head couldn’t quite mask.  
Groaning, Zach managed to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and move into a sitting position. He immediately decided that this had been a bad idea and stuck his head between his legs before his stomach could hula-hoop its way up his throat and out of his mouth. Bad idea, bad, bad idea... just like last night, when he’d gone walking somewhere. It had been very dark and he’d been outside. Slumped against a fence? Wherever he had gone, it can’t have been very far away. In the state he’d been in it was lucky that he’d managed to find his own front door.  
A shiver of what felt like foreboding skittered down Zach’s spine. The only person close enough to be walking distance from his place was Chris. And with Zach’s feelings towards him, drink and a midnight meeting were not good bedfellows. Perhaps Chris had told him to piss off and that had been the end of it? But Zach’s mind kept picking over the blanks in his memory as he dragged himself into the bathroom and managed to position himself under the shower. One clean Zachary Quinto later, he was still trying to unravel his movements from the night before. His head was a little clearer after the cool rain of the water and his memory was beginning to sharpen.

Breakfast was out of the question as Zach sat at the kitchen table, so instead he sipped at a glass of alka-seltzer-in-water. He _had_ gone to see Chris last night and... oh my God, he’d _kissed_ him. Right on the lips. Why was he remembering blueberries? Then after the kiss... Zach cringed as he remembered declaring his undying love to Chris, before Chris had freaked out and made him go home. Zach tried to remember how they’d left things, the glass of water frozen in motion against his lips. Chris had walked him home, both of them at a loss as to what to say.  
Zach sighed and put the glass none too gently on the table. They were on new ground now. This place was at once different to their friendship and to the weird in-between-space of his unrequited, unexpressed feelings for Chris. Everything was out in the open now and so any pretence to simplicity was pointless. Finding his darkest pair of glasses, Zach grabbed Noah’s leash and opened his front door, braving the light outside. Even through his shades, the light was migraine inducing but Noah was in full walk-mode now and Zach didn’t have the heart to disappoint him. As he began to let Noah walk him up the street, he realised that he didn’t have anywhere in particular to go. Perhaps an aimless walk around the neighbourhood to help clear his head and then back home to a nice dark room and a handful of aspirin. He clung to this mantra of ‘walk, home, sleep; walk, home, sleep,’ so hard that he didn’t see the jogger coming in the other direction until they were nearly on top of him. Noah was nearly was nearly overwhelmed by the force of the collision but he seemed to recover well, considering. His tail was wagging as if it owned the dog and his excited barks were so high they were barely discernible to the human ear.  
“Sorry man didn’t see you,” mumbled Zach, “I was in my own little...”  
“Oh, that’s f... _Oh_. Zach.”  
Zach desperately wanted to keep his head down and his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses but it would have been a pointless manoeuvre, not to mention a slightly stupid one, since he’d already been recognised.

They hadn’t met on a corner but close to the middle of what was a reasonably long stretch of straight road. It took Zach’s fuzzy brain a little longer that usual but eventually he realised that this meant he couldn’t have been the only one lost in his own head. For both of them to overlook each other until physics made that impossible, meant that he wasn’t entirely at fault.  
By the time Zach had straightened, most of the confusion had left Chris’ face but it was clear to Zach that he’d just been snapped out of his own little world too, one earphone dangling free against his chest. It was a little strange, Zach though as they both stood there in the awkward silence of two people who find themselves in the unknown, that Chris had been jogging at all, this time of day. He was normally an irritatingly early riser – always chirpy and on time for early calls – and his jogs were normally in the six, six-thirty area. It was well past nine now.  
An awful thought crossed Zach’s mind but he tried to quash it.  
“I thought you normally jogged earlier,” Zach commented, trying to sound casual.  
Chris turned his head to watch a car pass; his hand paused in mid-sweep through his sweat-drenched hair. He was dressed in light-grey slacks and a black tank top that matched the shining dark of his sunglasses perfectly. He looked out of breath and gorgeous – facts that Zach was desperately trying to ignore.  
“Yeah. Normally. I um, slept in this morning.”  
‘To avoid me?’ Zach thought.  
“Fine,” he remarked.  
Did that sound slightly bitter?  
Chris bristled slightly and Zach decided that yes, it had sounded slightly bitter.  
“You know how it is, I didn’t get much _sleep_ last night.”  
Zach had the good grace to blush.  
“Sorry, I mean... I just thought... Sorry.”  
“S’fine,” Chris replied, mollified slightly. “How’re you feeling?”  
“Ugh!” Zach grimaced in reply, removing his shades to reveal the bloodshot evidence and Chris grinned in reply taking his own sunglasses off in a show of solidarity.  
“Thought as much. How much did you manage to put away last night, anyway?”  
Impersonal facts, Zach could do those.  
“Not sure exactly, I haven’t counted all the bottles yet.”  
Chris whistled, impressed.  
“I _do_ know that I had a bottle and a half of Jack on top of the kitchen cabinets yesterday morning and it’s not there anymore. Not to mention that six pack of beer in the fridge.”  
“You _were_ busy!” Chris smiled as Noah wound his way around his ankles, sniffing him intently.  
Then his smile faded and the two men found themselves standing once more in awkward silence.  
It was then that Noah decided it was time to get down to business and proceeded to do one of the three things that dogs do best.

It took a little while for Zach and Chris to notice Noah’s undertaking but once they had, Zach found it difficult to keep a straight face – the absurdity of the situation was almost overwhelming. Standing in the street, trying to make small talk with the man he loved, while his dog took a dump in between them, as unconcerned as if it was his own backyard.  
Stifling his hiccup of laughter, he glanced at Chris only to see that he had the strangest expression on his face. It looked, Zach thought, as if he were having a seizure. A tick of the eye, followed by a quirk of the jaw – Zach truly believed that with that Pine stubbornness he could have made it through if wasn’t for the fact that at that moment, their looks connected and Chris exploded into laughter, tears making their shining way down his cheeks. It was because of this, that Zach took no responsibility for his own subsequent loss of control – Chris had started it and my God, if there was any kind of laughter in this world that was contagious it was Chris Pine’s. The more they tried to contain it, the more hysterical the situation seemed until they were both sprawled on the pavement, giggling madly while Noah dashed between them, frantically excited at this new game they were playing.  
Finally, the laughter grew more manageable and Chris tried to wipe away some of the wetness from his face.  
“Ah, what are we doing?” he chuckled ruefully. “You’re Zach, I’m Chris – that never changed did it?”  
Zach smiled like sunlight across water.  
“No, it never did.”  
“Then what are we doing? What _have_ we been doing these last few months? It all seems so...”  
“Stupid? Unbelievable?” Zach replied. “Totally understandable, in the circumstances?”  
“We’ve both been a bit mad, haven’t we?”  
“Mmmhrfmph...” Zach remarked, non-committaly.  
“Oh, nice dodge,” Chris drawled. “Don’t think you’ve avoided your share of the shit.”  
“Maybe we should just agree that we both handled it in a spectacularly dreadful way?”  
“Deal.”  
They both smiled and something shifted into place on this new ground – pieces that hadn’t fitted before finding places to settle.  
“We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?” Chris half-stated. “What ever we work out with your... feelings. We’re going to be okay.”  
The sun was fully clear of the trees lining the street now and its strength hit the two men sitting side-by-side, lighting Chris’ hair into spikes of gold-coloured toffee, even as it melted Zach’s into swirls of dark chocolate.  
“Yeah. We are.”

\---------------------------------------------------

Things were good, Zach thought as he sat stirring his latte with a metal spoon. Of course, it was hard to feel crappy when you were sitting in the sun, surrounded by the quiet murmur of other people’s conversations and the luscious green foliage of a well maintained garden – albeit a trendy outdoor Cafe garden.  
“It’s a little trendy, don’t you think?”  
Zach smiled like a cat and twisted around in his wrought-iron chair.  
“You’re late. And yes it is a little on the pretentious side but it has lots of green. I like green.”  
“Uhuh,” Chris replied distractedly, as he swept his gaze across the sprawl of tables and chairs before sweeping around Zach and sitting down opposite him.  
“Coffee?”  
“Sure.”  
Zach managed to catch the eye of the rather hunky waiter and reclined in his seat.  
“Can I get you anything, gentlemen?”  
Zach shook his head but gestured towards Chris.  
“Er, I’ll have a soy latte thanks, two sugars.”  
Zach raised an eyebrow at the level of sugar but said nothing, watching Chris instead as he shifted in his chair, trying to get comfortable.  
“That guy was giving you the eye, you should get his number,” Chris muttered as he tried to fish his wallet out of his jeans.  
“Already have,” Zach fired back, grinning smugly.  
“Oh, that’s good... where the hell?...”  
“Try standing up, dude – you look like you’re scratching your ass.”  
“That’s just because you’re obsessed with my ass,” he retorted, finally making eye contact with Zach.

It had been part of their ‘agreement’ for lack of a better word, that Zach keep his options open and try to date when he could, while Chris would learn to accept how Zach felt and try not to freak out when he caught Zach staring at his butt. The jokes had helped a lot in that department. They had started going for coffee again as they had once done months ago, although from what Zach could pry from Chris, Michelle wasn’t too happy with the arrangement. And while this pattern of coffee and conversation had been repeating nicely over the last few months, Zach couldn’t help feeling that today, something had happened to upset their little routine as Chris finally found his wallet and sat down in a huff.  
“What’s eating you?”  
Chris ripped open a sachet of sugar and dumped its contents onto the tabletop. Zach watched in fascination as Chris violently stabbed at the grains with his middle finger, making the table shudder with each collision.  
“Okay, forget I asked.”  
“Huh?” Chris asked, his head jerking up from his examination of the sugar.  
“You just seem... distracted.”  
Chris’ hands balled into fists and he startled as the waiter returned with his coffee.  
Zach had given up on Chris even answering him when he suddenly shuddered and a torrent of pent up emotion came pouring out of him.  
“It’s Michelle, she’s... I dunno what she is. Everything was fine and then suddenly, _nothing_ I do is right. It’s like she looking for a reason to...” Chris shook his head and ran his tongue over his lips.  
Zach had a horrible feeling he knew where this was going but he didn’t dare voice his opinion.  
“”How long has she been... unhappy?”  
Chris exhaled in frustration and threw himself against the back of his chair.  
“I’m not really sure. I didn’t really begin to notice how bad things were until a few weeks ago but she says... she says she’s been unhappy for months. What if she leaves me, Zach?”  
It was moments like these that made Zach question the wisdom of their choice to stay so close. How could he be a true friend to Chris when his own view of things was so skewed? Still, he owed it to his friend to try.  
“Chris, don’t let it get that far. Talk to her, figure out why she’s so unhappy. Something must have changed in the last few months to make her so...”  
‘Bitchy,’ he thought.  
“...upset with you.”  
“Well, she says I spend too much time with my friends – she’s not a fan of yours, Zach for a start.”  
‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ Zach reflected.  
“In fact,” Chris continued, his face creased in thought, “she’s said that it’s not healthy for our relationship – hers and mine – when I’m seen socialising with other people all the time. But I think...” The shadow of a thought crossed Chris’ face. “Oh, I think she actually means,”  
“Me.” Zach completed sombrely.

He could have put money on this outcome. Michelle was always ‘out’ whenever Zach came over and whenever they did inadvertently met, she was no longer territorial as she had once been at the party but outright hostile – as long as Chris wasn’t looking.  
Chris on the other hand, seemed almost shell shocked by the revelation.  
“You told her about me? About how I felt,” Zach stated.  
“Yeah,” Chris replied slowly. “Before, when I was trying work out what was happening between us. I told her that I thought you wanted more from me. And then I told her when we worked things out a couple of months back. We talked about it for awhile actually.”  
“And what did she think of it all?” asked Zach.  
Chris grimaced.  
“Well, she wasn’t all that keen on the idea that you had a crush on me. She seemed to view you as a bit of a,”  
“Threat?”  
Chris rolled his eyes dramatically.  
“Stop finishing my sentences, Quinto. Much as you’d like it, you’re _not_ actually psychic.”  
Zach pouted and crossed his arms.  
“S’not fair.”  
Chris snorted into his latte and the mood was lightened considerably. Finishing their drinks in companionable silence, they paid the bill and rose from their table. The flash of Paparazzi as they left the Cafe was nothing new – they had already said goodbye behind the privacy of the screened garden and Zach’s shades hid his eyes from the world as he headed to his car.

A week later and Zach was staring at the front of a magazine as it leaned unconcernedly against its rack – uncaring as to its shocking cover.  
Zach re-read the neon orange letters again and willed them to rearrange themselves into a more benign meaning but it was no use.  
‘ _Pine and Haurik Call It Quits?_ ’ Then beneath in smaller lettering, ‘ _Blonde bombshell, Michelle, says the Trek star is cheating on her_.’  
Zach forgot what he had stopped to buy and grabbed a copy of the mag instead, not bothering to wait for his change.  
The front page stared at him from the passenger seat of his car as he made his way home, taunting him with its allegations. He pulled up sharply in his driveway and headed for his front door, throwing his keys carelessly onto the side table as he entered and moving into the living room before sitting down on the couch.  
The magazine was rolled up in his hand and Zach could feel the slickness of the paper warm against his skin. He unrolled it and opened it to page six, where the full article was laid out in all its double-paged glory:

‘ _Chris Pine and Michelle Haurik seem to be in rough waters as the runway model accuses her boyfriend of nine months of cheating on her with an unknown friend.  
“He’s always meeting with someone else and being really secretive,” a source close to the couple says. “He’s treated her really badly and I think she’s just had enough of it.”  
Chris Pine burst onto the scene earlier this year, starring as Captain Kirk in the new Star Trek movie, reported..._’

Zach threw the magazine away from him in disgust. This had Michelle’s fingerprints all over it. Not one to give up without a fight, she was used to getting her way and _this_ was as good a way as any to warn Zach off.  
Chris, bless him probably wouldn’t see it for the manipulation it was – he would just be hurt by it, without knowing who was hurting him.  
The sound of ripping fabric caught Zach’s attention and he realised that his fingers had dug so hard into the couch that his manicured nails had pierced the thin upholstery.  
‘Take a deep breath,’ he told himself. ‘And another, and another,” until he was calm enough to come to the conclusion that anything he did now would only play into Michelle’s plan – whatever it was. He would have to wait for the dust to settle before he could hope to talk it through with Chris. Would he even know that it was Zach that the article was referring to? All he could do was keep silent and hope that this didn’t destroy the fragile web of trust that was finally beginning to form between Chris and himself.

So Zach went about his daily routine. He went to work, he went home. Out to dinner with friends and then takeaways at home with Noah and Harold. Days passed and the knot in his stomach only got tighter as nothing seemed to happen.  
Finally, one night as Zach was channel surfing, TMZ flashed across the screen in all its putrefying glory. Zach kept his finger pressed to the remote but as the channel flicked over he caught Chris’ name and for the first time in his life, he flicked back desperately to see what the paps were saying.  
“ _Yeah. So, we caught Michelle Haurik coming out of the car park this morning and her arms were just... nearly falling off from all those designer bags she was carrying.”  
“Did she say anything?”  
“Yeah, surprisingly, yeah she did_.”  
Here the show switched to footage of Michelle high heeling it over the concrete pavement, followed by her retinue as the TMZ ‘reporter’ asked her what was going on with her relationship.  
“ _Are you still seeing Chris or are things over between the two of you?_ ”  
It was hard to see behind her shades but Michelle seemed very confident as she was converged upon by the best that entertainment media had to offer.  
“ _Yeah, um my agent will be putting out a statement later but yeah, Chris and I are pretty much done.”  
“Was it because he was cheating on you?_”  
Was it Zach’s imagination or did she stumble a little there?  
“ _I can’t really comment on that, like I said, my agent will give you all a statement later, okay?_ ”  
And with that, she walked off and the show returned to the TMZ office.

Zach quietly switched the TV off and sat in the dim light emanating from his kitchen.  
When had things become _so complicated_? And how was he going to deal with Chris after this? Whatever Zach had thought of Michelle, Chris had truly loved her, hell they’d been dating for nearly a year. This was going to shatter him and Zach had the terrible suspicion that if he went anywhere near him, he was going to get cut by the falling pieces.  
The next day the break up was official and all over the tabloids and E.T. But Zach couldn’t ring Chris, not when he’d played such a pivotal, if unknowing role in the relationship’s demise. He knew that John and Karl would call to commiserate with Chris, probably swing by and drink him into a blind stupor – do all the normal things that you do post-break up. Perhaps then, when the dust had settled, Zach could try to contact him. Right now though, he was the last person Chris would want to see.  
Zach clung to this fact as the weeks crawled by at an agonisingly slow pace.

It was well past three in the morning when the phone rang. Zach startled awake on the couch where he had fallen asleep and wiped the drool from his cheek. Where was the damn phone? The persistent ringing echoed around the room but gave no indication as to its location. By the time Zach realised he was sitting on it, it had rung off and all he could do was stare at the missed call information as it glowed on the screen. He knew the number but his sleep-addled brain just couldn’t connect it with a name.  
Two minutes later, it rang again – the same number and Zach still couldn’t remember whose it was. And a little voice in his head said, ‘just let it ring. Nothing good can come of this. Just let it ring off. You don’t want to hear what’s waiting to be said on the other end of that phone.’  
So Zach let it ring on as the unknown number morphed into Chris’ and allowed himself the illusion that nothing had changed. Tomorrow, he and Chris would go for coffee as usual and Chris would harbour no resentment towards Zach. As long as he didn’t give Chris the chance, he could pretend, just a little longer perhaps.  
The phone fell silent and the house reverberated with its absence.  
The batteries came out of the phone and Zach laid it to rest on the coffee table before switching off the kitchen light and going to bed, stumbling to find his way in the dark.

The next morning Zach padded out of his bedroom to see Noah growling at the front door, his tail flicking back and forth occasionally as he whuffled at the base of the frame, where a shaft of morning light was spearing its way into the room.  
“Noah, what’re you doing? Leave it!”  
Noah stared at Zach balefully and slunk away but he kept his gaze fixed on the front door as he settled by the kitchen counter.  
Zach tried to make breakfast but Noah’s persistent low-grade growl was really beginning to irritate him.  
“For crying out loud, Noah _shut up_! Look, there’s nothing there!”  
With that, he strode over to the front door and flung it open, proving to Noah that there was... a Chris Pine on his doorstep.  
He was sat on the steps, his knees together and his hands laced around them. Wide-awake and staring with an unnerving calm into the middle distance.  
“Chris?”  
“Zach.”  
“How long have you been there?”  
“What time is it?”  
Zach glanced at his watch.  
“About ten.”  
“Then... six hours, give or take a couple of minutes.”  
“What?! Are you crazy?” Cried Zach before he could help himself.  
Chris' smile wasn’t pretty.  
“Possibly. Maybe you can help me find out.”  
Chris stood up and stalked into Zach’s house, heading for the lounge room. Zach followed more slowly, unsure of his ground faced with this ultra-calm Chris.  
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” said Chris. “Well, I’ve had the time the last few weeks haven’t I?”  
Zach didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, so he stood there with his hands in his pockets.  
“And I’ve come to a conclusion,” Chris continued, his mask of calm slipping a little. “That it’s time’s like these that you find out who your real friends are and who’s in it just for the good times or for when _they_ need help and reassurance.”  
“Chris...” Zach began but Chris cut him off brokenly.  
“No! You don’t get to interrupt me. I spent six fucking hours waiting on your doorstep after you ignored _all_ my calls, so that you’d _have_ to talk to me if you wanted to leave your house!"

Zach stood silent as Chris took a deep breath and settled his face back into that horrifyingly calm facade he'd been wearing since Zach opened the front door.  
“So here’s how it goes,” Chris continued. “My girlfriend fucking _leaves me_ , the woman that I thought I loved, that I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. And all of my friends ring to see how I’m doing. They offer to get shit-faced with me, to spend some time watching some pointless late night TV with me, the usual. Karl rings and John comes over with a six-pack. Zoe even finds time to take me out to dinner and tell me how stupid Michelle was for letting me go. And all thought this, I find myself thinking, this is so unbelievably painful but it’s ok, Zach’ll ring soon – tell me I’m a prat but a prat with a nice ass and we’ll go for a drink or something somewhere. It’ll all be fine soon because my best fucking friend in the whole fucking world won’t just abandon me because things get tough – he knows how fucking painful love can be – he’ll be there for me, he’ll _fucking listen_!”  
Chris had backed Zach up against the wall and Noah had run out of the room, terrified by the anger in Chris’ voice.  
“I couldn’t...” Zach tried but Chris hadn’t finished.  
“So days pass. And then weeks. Now I start wondering why he hasn’t called or visited. What could possibly be stopping him? And do you know what I came up with?”  
Zach shook his head.  
“ _Nothing_. Abso-fucking-loutely nothing. So excuse me if you’re too busy writing your own tragedy to bother about mine but I _needed_ you, Zach,” he pleaded as his voice cracked. “My whole world fell apart and you weren’t there.”  
Zach could see Chris’ whole body shaking, his hands flexing open and closed at his sides as he let himself slump against the wall and slide down to the floor.  
“I lost her, Zach,” Chris whispered as he broke down completely, silent sobs shaking his bent frame.  
Zach realised in that moment that he had miscalculated horribly and the full weight of what he’d left Chris to deal with hit him hard enough to make his stomach turn. ‘Oh, Chris,’ he thought, ‘you’ve no idea what you’re like, do you? You’ve no idea what you do to me.’  
“Oh Chris, I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry.”  
He slid down the wall and came to rest by Chris’ side, putting an arm around him and resting his chin on top of Chris’ head.  
“I never thought it through. I thought you’d hate me.”  
Chris’ sobs were becoming audible now and Noah crept back into the room, settling himself at his feet, his head pressed mournfully against Chris’ sneakers.  
“It’s all right, Chris. Just let go, let it all go. I’m here now; I promise I’m not going anywhere.”  
Zach kept his arms tight around Chris as he cried himself into exhaustion. He held on tight and made sure that his own guilty tears stayed silent.  
All that Zach could do was hold on.

\----------------------------------------

It was nearly twelve in the afternoon before Chris finally awoke, sprawled against Zach’s living room wall with Noah’s head resting on his thigh. His head felt lighter than it probably should have and he had to steady himself as he stood, dislodging Noah in the process.  
The tinkle of metal on ceramics and Zach padded into view holding two mugs of what smelled like really good coffee. Gesturing to the couch both men sat down and Zach carefully handed Chris his mug.  
“Wasn’t sure if I should let you sleep,” said Zach.  
Chris sipped carefully at his drink, the burn deliciously painful against his lips.  
“I’m still running on adrenaline I think,” he replied. “I could only manage to doze for a bit.”  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
Chris sighed, wrapping his hands around his coffee.  
“I just want to feel something other than this. When that article first came out, I just dismissed it, you know? I though Michelle would too. But she kept pointing out all the arguments that they had for me cheating on her, as if she actually believed that I was having sex with another woman. Then like, a week later she starts giving me all these ultimatums – do this or I’ll leave, do that or I’ll leave. I was going to try and compromise but then she demanded that I stop seeing you. Completely. That it was her love or your friendship and I had to choose.”  
Chris’ eyebrow quirked, letting a little of the real Chris Pine shine through.  
“I don’t think she was expecting that one.”  
“Expecting what one?” asked Zach.  
“Expecting me to say no. That I would refuse to choose. She looked so astonished, like she’d just _assumed_ I would choose her over everyone else in my life.”  
Zach tried to ignore the thought that it wasn’t all of his friends that she had a problem with, just him.  
“And then she followed through on her threat. She packed her stuff and just... left. I thought she was just testing me at first but the next day her agent contacted mine to arrange for the release of a statement.” Chris chuckled humourlessly. “It was about then that I realised it was all over.”  
Chris rubbed at his eyes tiredly and Zach tentatively patted him on the back.  
“I’m so sick of feeling like crap, Zach. She made me feel like crap and I want to be so angry with her. I think I am a little bit but it’s not enough. Anger I could deal with, I could _do_ something with anger.”  
He turned to Zach, a look of intense feeling on his face.  
“What do I do with this?”


	5. Must Be Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the songs from Frou Frou's album, _Details_. _Must Be Dreaming_ is track 4 on the album and the lyrics for all the songs on _Details_ can be found [here](http://www.lyricsmania.com/details_album_lyrics_frou_frou.html).

"What do I do with this?"  
The silence stretched taut as they sat in the sunlight of the early afternoon. So many emotions colliding, clashing with each other. How to know which ones they felt together. Pain? Oh yes, that one was a companion to both but this love? This _need_? It whirled around Zach’s head until it made him dizzy but all he could see reflected in those other eyes was desperation. And that wasn’t enough, not nearly enough for him to let his hand come to rest on that neck, to let the shutters fall from his eyes. His hand couldn’t start moving in reassuring circles on that warm skin, it wasn’t his place, it wasn’t _right_ , not here, not now, not with _him_ so very, very alone. That gorgeous head wouldn’t tilt to meet his fingers, desperate for any kind of gentle touch, the eyes wouldn’t close and a sigh wouldn’t escape those incredible lips like the breath of something divine.  
“Zach...”  
No he wouldn’t say that name, not like that, his head rolling forward to rest against Zach’s waiting brow, arms coming up around him like they’d belonged there, always.  
“Just let me feel something else, something other than this. Please?”  
Breath mingling together, getting harder, heavier. Heads tilting up until their eyes meet; sunlit tannin against summer seawater.  
“Can’t...” Was that him? Was it he that was pulling away? “Wrong,” he whispered, “so wrong. You don’t want this. I can’t hurt you again.”  
A violent shake of the head and hands fisting in the back of his hair, pulling him closer, ever closer to the edge, to that razor-sharp line where he will lose himself.  
“You. Only you... the constant in my life, always there. Don’t leave me alone here; don’t make me feel this alone.”  
The patter of water on denim and his eyes swam out of focus. Those seawater eyes were all he could see through the blur.  
“Just... let... me...”  
Lips so close now, then the tip of that tongue, then... the whole world screamed as they came together – salt and sweat and heat, before the softness of his mouth and the wandering of his hands down Zach’s back.

Coming up for air and those beautiful eyes read his intentions before he did, warm fingers pressed against his lips to stall his voice.  
“No. I know how you feel, Zach. Give me a chance to figure out how _I_ feel. I need to see how deep this goes.”  
Then those hands were on him again, running over his shoulders, down his chest and then under his shirt. They stilled for a moment, palms pressed flat against his belly, lips caressing the air over his collarbone and then they were pulling the cloth up and away from his body before returning to trace the dark hair that fell down his chest, shaping a line to the waistband of his track pants. Zach looked up and saw those lips were moving again.  
“Show me how much you love me,” they whispered.  
And Zach fell over the edge.

Clothes ripped as Chris’ torso was stripped bare, both men rising until they stood facing each other, so close to touching that Zach could feel the heat of Chris’ body seep into his own. He extended his hand – an unconscious gesture and Chris took it without hesitation. Hand in hand – that seemed important to Zach as he backed towards the bedroom, pulling Chris with him. A stumble as the door opened behind him and then he was falling onto the bed and Chris was falling with him until they were a tangle of limbs over cream sheets. Hands roaming all over as they rolled back and forth until Zach went for Chris’ jeans, deftly undoing the fly. Not satisfied with just watching Chris take them off he pulled them down his thighs, uncaring as to whether he left marks on his skin. A gasp as his briefs quickly followed and then he was free and Zach had to pause for a moment just to look.  
“You too,” whispers Chris harshly as he reaches for Zach’s drawstring.  
They’re both naked now and here Zach gets scared – he can’t turn back now, not when Chris is kneeling before him on the bedspread but some small part of him, in the back of his mind warns him that Chris might bolt. And if you love him, it says, you’ll have to let him go. The bed sinks as Zach shuffles forwards and Chris stays frozen, a poem in stillness like the statue of David, only his eyes moving, following every movement that Zach is making. Zach places a tentative hand on Chris’ chest, feeling his heart pulse strongly beneath his palm. A shiver of something passes through Chris and Zach trails his hand lower, circling his navel, before reaching the wiry, dark blond curls of his groin.  
He’s so close now, so close but he’s afraid to take that last step. He wants this to last for the rest of his life but this moment could be everything or nothing and if Chris shatters it, he’ll shatter Zach too.

Chris senses his hesitation but he’s sick of turning away, of feeling so lost and Zach is like a white gold thread running through his life for so many months now. He’s not just a rock to cling to; he’s a blinding light that will melt the chill that has begun to seep into Chris’ bones.  
Like lightning he reaches for Zach’s hand, guiding him down and wrapping those slim fingers around himself.  
The breath of a moan escapes Zach’s body and then he’s running his hand over Chris, thumb gently rubbing against the silk of his skin until Chris bucks and Zach twists his body and throws Chris down onto the bed beneath him.  
His hair is hanging over his eyes and a puff of air to clear it makes Chris smile like the sun after a rainstorm. It’s that more than anything else that lets Zach throw the last of his hesitation to the back of his mind. As they kiss again, Chris’ hand snakes its way down between them and reaches for Zach. Zach returns the gesture and they both gasp as they begin to move against each other. Their sweat lets them slide effortlessly and soon Zach has to close his eyes to try and block out the vision of Chris beneath him – eyes blown wide with want, lips red from kissing but it’s no use. Zach will see that image until the day he dies.  
“How far do you want to go?” he finds himself asking.  
“As far as we can,” Chris replies. “As far as you’ll let me.”  
Zach takes the hint and reaches blindly for the drawer in his bedside table. Chris takes the offered condom from him ever so gently but the tremor in his hand betrays his need and Zach can’t take his eyes off him until he’s done. Zach knows that he can take Chris without much difficulty and he wants to make this as easy as he can for Chris, so after he prepares himself he rolls onto his back and pulls Chris over to him.  
“How...” Chris asks but Zach cuts him off.  
“Just follow my lead.”

Years of yoga have paid off and Zach has no trouble lifting his legs and letting them rest around Chris’ upper torso. Chris seems to hesitate as he hovers over Zach, his hands on either side of his body. Zach reaches up to touch his face and Chris leans down for the gentlest kiss Zach has ever had. Then Chris pushes into him and all coherent thought is lost in the rush of feeling. Chris is nearly panting as he leans over Zach, one hand wrapped around his side and Zach can see that there are emotions warring across his beautiful face, even as his hand clenches possessively around Zach’s middle.

They look into each other eyes again and Zach can see Chris make a decision. Something lifts from his face, leaving it lighter and he bends down to press a kiss against Zach’s sternum before beginning to move in a steady rhythm. The heat in the room rises as the two men begin to rock together, their breathing becoming synchronised, Chris’ head pressed into Zach’s chest as his breaths become sighs, become moans, become cries and Zach voice rises to meet him – a duet of passion and need and heat and Zach thinks he must be dreaming this, must be dreaming the look of desire on Chris’ face as he rides above him. “Oh, come and collide in me,’ he thinks, ‘this sugar rush of glorious feeling – just don’t stop, oh please god don’t stop.’

Zach goes sky high as Chris’ rhythm deepens, slamming the bed into the wall and Zach is losing it, he’s on fire. Euphoria begins to trickle in and just at the moment that he knows he can’t take any more, Chris stalls above him and shudders in glorious agony, his head craned to the ceiling as Zach feels him pulse inside him and Zach’s body arches in ecstasy, his hands scrabbling for Chris’ face and pulling him down towards him as he spills over Chris’ chest.  
Chris falls bonelessly on top of Zach, his breath coming fast and heavy.  
Zach pulls Chris’ head against his chest with one hand curled in his hair – the other runs up and down his spine in an unconscious, repeating pattern.  
Their breathing is slowing down now and exhaustion is finally creeping up on Chris, his head a near dead weight on Zach’s body.  
“I’m yours,” whispers Zach. “All yours, always yours, undeniably yours.”  
And Chris’ hand squeezes his arm in reply.


	6. Shh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the songs from Frou Frou's album, _Details_. _Shh_ is track 7 on the album and the lyrics for all the songs on _Details_ can be found [here](http://www.lyricsmania.com/details_album_lyrics_frou_frou.html).

Sunbeams tugged at Zach’s body as he lay naked, face down on the bed, the lower curve of his back bathed in the hot brand of the afternoon light. He felt a body move beside him as he shifted, its movements still heavy and drugged with sleep. Cracking open an eye he could see Chris sprawled across three quarters of the bed, his head on Zach’s pillow. Getting up very slowly, Zach padded quietly to the bedroom door and slipped out to check on Noah and fix Chris and himself some late lunch – he couldn’t remember if he’d managed to eat breakfast that morning before he’d found Chris on his doorstep. Pulling the door shut quietly behind him, he let Noah out into the small backyard and went to assess the food situation in the kitchen.  
He supposed it was the smell of food that had woken Chris – his nose seemed to be leading the rest of him into an upright position. Zach placed the tray of toasted ham and cheese on his bedside table and sat down very carefully on the edge of the bed – not too close to Chris but not so far away as to be obvious.  
“I made tea too, thought it might be a nice change from all that coffee.”  
Chris stared at Zach blearily and for a moment Zach’s heart stuttered in his chest, all his hopes shrivelling in the wash of fear that overran him. But Chris just yawned loudly and reached for a mug, taking a slow, intense draw of liquid before shaking his head a little and looking – properly looking at Zach for the first time since he had fallen asleep on his chest that morning.  
“Tea is good,” he said, his eyes all for Zach. “You look nervous.”  
“I am,” replied Zach. “I have this terrible feeling that last night was just a dream or worse, a mistake.”  
“You do?”  
Zach sighed.  
“A lot of things can be said in the heat of passion and no matter how ardently you mean them at the time, the next day everything’s shifted and some things just don’t seem truthful anymore.”  
Chris stopped picking at the toasted sandwich he had claimed and a flicker of something shivered across his gaze.  
“What are you saying, Zach?”  
“I’m saying that you were hurting last night. You were lost and in pain and you knew that you could lose yourself in me, even if it was only for a little while.”  
“Wow. That sounds almost generous of you, Zach. Should I be lavishing my undying gratitude upon you for this morning’s exercise?”  
He could tell that Chris had tried to make a joke of it but the sarcasm was acid-sharp and Zach flinched away from him involuntarily. Chris blew out his breath sharply as his rubbed at his sleep-encrusted eyes.  
“I’m sorry, it’s just... I didn’t think _you_ would be the one balking at this.” Chris sounded almost surprised at his own observation. “Wow. I _didn’t_ think it would be you. I thought it would be me. Zach, why aren’t I freaking out about this?”  
“Maybe I am just that brilliant of a fuck?”  
Chris spat tea all over the sheets and nearly had to drop the mug back on the table.  
“No offense, Quinto you’re good but you’re not a sex god.”  
“Huh,” Zach scoffed, “shows what you know.”  
They smiled at each other and Chris judged it safe enough to return to his tea.  
“So if you’re not going to freak out on me just yet, what are you going to do?” Zach asked.  
“I’m going to thank you for this morning.”  
“I thought you were being sarcastic about your undying gratitude?”  
Chris shot him a goofy look that said ‘I can’t even be bothered to take you seriously right now’.  
“ _No_ , I mean I want to thank you because you were there for me and you were careful with me. You were _so careful_ not to pull me to you or push me away. Zach, I don’t think you understand how much I needed last night.”  
“Yeah but will you need me again, when you’re not on the rebound? You know how I feel, you said so last night and I can’t be just fuck buddies with you, I can’t. It’d hurt more than not having you at all.”  
“I know,” Chris replied, his voice as soft as the sheets on which they laid. “I... It’s too early for me to say I want... I dunno, a relationship? This whole guy on guy thing is completely new to me. Yeah I’m used to your feelings for me now but that’s a totally different thing to a full blown relationship that’s full of – you know – the sex.”  
“You do know you just used ‘full blown’ and ‘sex’ in the same sentence, right?”  
Chris threw a pillow at Zach’s head, narrowly missing him.”  
“Shut up for Christ’s sake, I’m trying to be all serious and deep!”  
“Now you’ve used ‘deep’. Deep, full blown sex – there’s just no helping you Pine, you have a dirty, dirty mind.”

Without warning Chris lunged at Zach and managed to wrap his arms around his head, letting loose a triumphant ‘aha!’ as he wrestled him onto the bed. Zach, not one to surrender without a fight proceeded to grab Chris around the middle. Locked in this deadly struggle for survival, the toasted sandwiches were left to cool by the unloved mugs of tea until finally, releasing his hold on Zach; Chris brought their lips together in a clash of teeth and skin.  
“You know,” panted Chris between kisses, “I really should be doing something constructive with the rest of today... like re-grouting the bathroom... tiles or cleaning out... the oven or... checking the oil in my car.”  
Zach tried to muffle his laughter in the stubble of Chris cheek.  
“You don’t do _any_ of those things, Pine. That’s why your car keeps breaking down for a start.”  
“Eh, what can I say? There are more things in this life, Zachary than are dreamt of in a mechanics’ philosophy.”  
“That is the worst attempt at Shakespearean quotation that I have _ever_ heard, bar none. Your degree should be ashamed of you.”  
“Oh shut up and keep kissing me before I start quoting Robert Frost.”  
Zach complied with ease.

An hour later, Chris shot upright, shaking Zach out of the light doze he’d been in.  
“Shit, look at the time! I need to be at a read through at nine in the morning tomorrow.”  
Zach flexed his arms as they stretched above his head.  
“It’s only five in the afternoon now, Chris. I think you’ll make it if you run really fast.”  
“Shut uuuup,” groaned Chris as he shoved his face into the pillow. “With everything that’s been going on, I’ve barely looked at the damn script. I need to get home and find it, first thing then I should probably try to find some clean clothes – when did I last do a wash?”  
“You going all domestic on me now, Pine?” Zach teased.  
Chris shuddered melodramatically.  
“No man, you have no idea how bad my place looks at the moment. It’s like Godzilla and King Kong had an epic punch up all through my house and then barfed all over it.”  
Zach winced at the mental imagery that provoked.  
“ _Dude_. Seriously. I did not need that level of disgusting detail, even if it is metaphorical.”  
Chris just stuck his tongue out in response and went to get up, wrapping one of the bed sheets around him as he did.  
“D’you remember where my pants ended up?”  
Zach was solemn as he tried to recall.  
“Fell behind the dresser, I think.”  
“Oh yeah,” sing-songed Chris as he peered into the darkness behind the furniture. “Here they are.”

Zach was still in the bed, a lone figure in the massive expanse of softness. The remaining sheets were pooled around his waist and he was carefully examining his fingernails.  
“You could stay for dinner? Stay the night?”  
Chris turned back to Zach slowly, his jeans hanging limply from one hand.  
“I... We’ve spent almost all day in bed and... it was great and everything don’t get me wrong. That thing you can do with your legs and that vibrating thing with your throat? All just... amazing but I think I need to get back into my own space a little bit, you know? Figure out where my head’s at; get into the right frame of mind for tomorrow. If I stay here,” Chris walked back to the bed and sat down by Zach, tilting his head up with his hand. “I’ll get distracted and tomorrow will be a complete disaster, much like the last few weeks have been.”  
Zach tried to meet his eyes but couldn’t. This is good, he willed himself to think. This is so much more than you could have expected from him. Don’t ruin it by being too needy.  
“Sounds like a plan, my man. Can’t have you screwing up a Hollywood blockbuster.”  
“’Zif I would,” scoffed Chris. “I could be absolute shit and I’d still be the best thing in the room. I’m just that charismatic.”

A playful shove and Chris resumed getting dressed, eventually wandering into the lounge room to find his shirt. Zach listened to the silence – his bedroom was his own again and that wasn’t quite good enough any more. By the time he got out of bed and found his own pants, Chris was at the back door, saying goodbye to Noah, as Harold wound his way around his feet. He straightened as Zach came into the room and then, as they stood facing each other across the space it finally became awkward.  
“Well. So. I’ll see you soon then?” Asked Zach, trying so hard to sound casual and unconcerned.  
“Sure,” replied Chris, hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched forwards, “tomorrow’s pretty much all tied up with the movie’s pre-production stuff but the day after, maybe?”  
Zach just nodded mutely in agreement. Would setting an hour to meet sound too desperate? How about a mealtime, instead? Would that be general enough?  
“You could swing round for dinner then? We could have a proper meal and bitch about how annoying your co stars are going to be.”  
Chris half smiled in the long shadows of the early evening.  
“Sure! It’s a date.”  
They both flinched at the unconscious slip but it was for very different reasons.  
“Uh I’ll see you then... then,” said Chris before he bounded out the front door into the dead light of the end of the day and Zach didn’t quite know what do with himself, in the quiet of the house.

It felt like weeks since Zach had seen him but he tried not to let it show on his face. He was also an hour late but his breathless apology – a kiss as soon as the door was closed – let Zach forgive him instantaneously.  
“I brought wine with me,” said Chris. “It’s ah, er – not sure what it is actually but it was ridiculously expensive so it should be good.”  
Zach just smiled and took the bottle into the kitchen as Chris hung his jacket up next to the front door.  
“So,” Zach called out from the kitchen, “what do you feel like eating?”  
“Dunno,” Chris replied as he perused Zach’s CD collection, his fingers trailing over their spines. “What do you feel like?”  
Zach loved and hated this part. For as long as he had known Chris, they had never been able to make a decision on food in less than twenty minutes. Even the Craft Services tables had been the feature of debate – Zach arguing the merits of a salad roll over whatever it was that lay in wait within the pastry shells of the hot food.  
“How about something light, like... sushi? Or a nice Thai salad?”  
Chris made a rude noise from the other room and Zach rolled his eyes – he knew it wouldn’t be that easy.  
“No, I want something with a little more substance to it. How about a nice couple of steaks from that new place, they deliver don’t they?”  
“Urgh, not steak. Totally not in the mood for steak. How about a curry?”  
“Yeah,” laughed Chris, “we could scare each other off with our garlic breath.”  
“Okay, so not curry. We’re running out of options!”  
“Pizza?”  
“Too bready. Fish?”  
“Too fishy. Soup?”  
“Soup? Where are we going to get soup from?” scoffed Zach. “And anyway, I thought you wanted something _substantial_.”  
“Fine. Burgers then, how about burgers?”  
Zach poked his head around the door and glared squintily at Chris.  
“Fast food or gourmet?”  
“Gourmet, of course. Nothing so unrefined as fast food for Zachary Quinto’s delicate palate.”  
“I’m very careful about what I eat,” replied Zach sniffily.  
“Whatever,” drawled Chris with a smile. “So, yes to burgers? We’ve actually decided?”  
“Burgers it is. I’ll ring and see if they deliver.”  
Zach moved into the lounge room and reached for the phone.

Twenty minutes later and the gourmet meal was delivered, complete with separate portions of pickles. They ate in silence for the most part, preferring the kitchen table to the over formality of the dining one. Half way into the bottle of wine and they finally began to move off the topics of weather and general news. Half a bottle later again and they moved onto Zach’s stash of spirits and liqueurs – Chris demanding to try a bit of every strange alcoholic concoction, exclaiming over a peach something or other and hastily abandoning a blueberry one.  
Eventually they reached a point where it was decided that sitting on chairs was not nearly as fun as sprawling on the floor of the kitchen. After amending this decision to include the lounge room floor, which was warmer, Zach ran his hand clumsily down the back of Chris’ neck, trying to remember why he was allowed to do this.  
“I wanna go for a walk,” Chris announced abruptly.  
Standing suddenly and then swaying, Chris reached a hand down to Zach and dragged him up, heading for the front door.  
“Isn’t it a little late for a walk,” asked Zach but Chris wasn’t listening.  
It was warm outside and the darkness engulfed the pair as Chris stepped onto the street, pulling Zach behind him like a recalcitrant puppy.  
“C’mon, walk with me!”

Zach had no idea where they were going but Chris had purpose in his stride and they were heading... somewhere. The streets lights illuminated them in fluorescent glory every minute or so like recurring spotlights until Zach heard the murmur of voices that slowly resolved into the convincing sound of a nightclub. This couldn’t have been where Chris was originally heading but the persistent thrum of a beat, the swirl of people with their talk and laughter and glitter pulled Chris in, and Zach had no choice but to follow. Looking back, Zach tried to understand why neither of them had thought to let go of the other’s hand but at the time, Chris’ hand in his was his only lifeline as the storm of people engulfed them and Chris star-powered them past the bouncers with the barest pause. Now they were heading for the bar and Zach’s head kept trying to tell him something, perhaps that they – Chris in particular had drunk enough tonight.  
“Two beers!” Chris shouted at the bartender, letting go of Zach’s hand before spinning rather drunkenly back to him and mussing his hair with one hand, his eyes shining with whatever it was that was driving him. The more energised Chris became, the more Zach pulled back, worried about something that the drink had muffled too much to recall in all this noise.  
Chris nearly skulled his drink when it arrived but Zach only sipped at his.  
“Dance with me!” Chris shouted in Zach’s ear and Zach jerked away but Chris’s hand was on his forearm and the look in his eyes was... predatory.

The music was made up of basic dance mixes but there was something dark about the deeper chords that ran through the songs, something that made you think of night-black water on naked skin. It seemed to suit Chris perfectly – his smile dark-lit and all for Zach. His arms came around him as they found a place on the crowded dance floor and slowly slid down his back until they wrapped lazily around his ass. Chris’ face was inches away from Zach’s and he could feel his breath as it mingled with the heat of the club’s air. He tried not to look at Chris’ eyes as he placed his own hands around his shoulders – his eyes weren’t right and Zach didn’t want to be here anymore, amongst all this noise – he wanted to be alone with Chris at home, watching some black and white movie on the couch with the blond nestled in his arms. He wasn’t sure what this was, what Chris was trying to prove.  
“Let’s go home!” Zach shouted but Chris just shook his head, turning it into a laugh that competed with the music for dominance. The music deepened and the beat ricocheted around Zach’s head until only Chris was keeping him standing. The people around them blurred into a mass of writhing bodies and flashing lights and Zach had to close his eyes, opening them sharply when he felt Chris lean in and kiss him passionately, with all the heightened emotion of the drunk. Zach tried to back off but Chris wouldn’t take no for an answer, surging forward as Zach backed off, until they ran out of space and each of them grabbed for the other, desperately searching for purchase on their bodies.

When they had recovered, Chris slumped against Zach’s chest, chuckling deeply, the reverberations shivering into Zach’s body. Zach used both hands to tilt Chris’ head up to him.  
“Home, Chris,” he mouthed and Chris nodded slowly, his mirth fading away with the song, replaced with something more sober.  
They made it outside with little trouble and Zach borrowed a girl’s phone to call a cab, in exchange for an autograph. Mercifully, the cab was quick and Zach bundled Chris into the back before following him in. Chris was asleep by the time they reached his house and Zach didn’t have a key so it was back to Zach’s and a good ten minutes trying to get a near unconscious Chris in the front door and on into the bedroom.  
“If you chuck on those clean sheets, Pine I’ll kill you,” he whispered but Chris was far-gone, blue eyes hidden behind heavy lids.  
Slipping off his shoes and shirt, he tucked Chris into bed feeling absurdly like his mother. Zach changed into a pair of slacks and slipped in beside Chris, being careful not to touch him and roughly bunching his pillow up around his head. He closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep but all he could see was that wolf-like look on Chris’ face at the club and the way that he had kissed Zach’s breath away on the dance floor.

\---------------------------------------

Zach didn’t get to sleep in for very long the next morning. Between Chris’ groans of pain as he tried to shut out the world with his pillow and the incessantly ringing phone, Zach gave it up as a lost cause and stumbled into the lounge room to pick up the phone.  
It wouldn’t have made a difference to anything had he not picked it up but he still wishes like hell that he hadn’t.  
“Hello?”  
“Zach? Oh Zach thank Christ for that, I’ve been trying to call you for the last fifteen minutes!”  
“Sarah?”  
It was Zach’s agent, who knew very well that early mornings were off limits unless there was a dire emergency – a dire, career threatening emergency.  
“Yeah,” A sigh over the line and the sound of someone shuffling in their chair. “Okay, I found an envelope waiting for me this morning when I got into the office. It was hand delivered, which makes me think that these are recent and... I dunno whether that makes things better or worse to be honest.”  
Zach scratched his face tiredly.  
“Look, Sarah it’s... what time is it anyway? Doesn’t matter. It’s early, too early for this obtuse bullcrap – just tell me what the problem is.”  
“You’re out,” Zach’s vision flashed to white for the smallest moment. “Or at least, you’re about to be outed,” Sarah continued. “And not just you, it looks like this is a two for one deal.”  
“Chris?” Zach whispered so softly it was hardly a question.  
“Chris,” Sarah replied.  
He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there but somehow he was on the floor, the bristles of the carpet biting into the soft skin of his ankles and the tops of his feet.  
“Zach? Are you still there?”  
He managed to make some sound of assent and Sarah continued, every word drilling deeper and deeper into Zach’s body, reaching bone and heart so quickly.  
“They’re pictures of you kissing in a club of some sort. Now, after last month’s... expose on Chris’ apparent infidelity the tabs... they’re going to have a field day, Zach. This is going to go nuclear.”  
“Is...” Zach had to stop and find his voice. “Is there any way to protect Chris from this? Can’t it just be me?”  
“No, I’m sorry Zach. The photos have both of you in them and your faces are easily recognisable, even in the club lighting. They’ll use them in connection with Chris’ recent scandal to boost the story. All we can do now is go into damage control, for both of you. Chris’ agent contacted me a half hour ago – he has the same photos on his desk but... he can’t seem to get in touch with Chris.”  
Zach wandered over to the coat stand and rummaged around in Chris’ jacket until he found his phone; still on vibrate from last night, with twelve missed calls waiting.  
“Yeah he’s um, with me. The photos will be from last night. Chris... we had a little too much to drink and went out clubbing. I just... we didn’t think about it.”  
Another sigh over the phone.  
“A little heads up about this would have been nice, Zach.”  
“For fuck’s sake, Sarah, _I_ don’t even know what’s going on. It’s all been a little sudden. Two days ago there would have been nothing to tell you.”  
“Fine, fine. Look, you and Chris need to come in for a meeting with Chris’ agent and myself. How about twelve? I’ll contact Patrick.”  
“Okay,” Zach replied, his mind already racing frantically ahead, trying to find a way to break this to Chris.

As he headed back into the bedroom, he heard the sound of rushing water and realized that Chris must be in the shower. This was good; this gave him time to figure out how to phrase this. Ten minutes later as the water shut off, he still had no idea of what to say.  
“Urgh, my head feels like it’s been smashed between two brick walls.”  
“Wait till you hear what I have to say,” Zach muttered.  
“Huh?”  
“Ah, Chris just… sit down for a minute will you?”  
“Sit down, are you kidding?! I’m soaking wet – I can think of better ways to muss up your sheets.”  
Chris’ cheeky grin didn’t last long as Zach’s bleak look remained unbroken.  
“Shit. What is it?”  
“How much do you remember of last night?”  
“Chris scrunched his eyes up in concentration.  
“Uh, I remember going clubbing, I think. Maybe a little dancing?”  
“Along with a little kissing?”  
“What?”  
“You kissed me, Chris. Right there on the dance floor. And now my agent is ringing me telling me that she _and_ Patrick both have copies of photos _showing_ that spontaneous event.”  
Chris joined Zach on the bed, his hands clasped between his legs as the water dripped steadily from his hair, staining the bedspread a darker colour.  
“Can they stop it?”  
“No,” replied Zach quietly.  
Chris abruptly stood again, one hand holding his towel together around his waist and began to pace the room.  
“What do we do?”  
“Sarah’s arranged for a meeting at twelve. We go and... we see how much we can minimise this. Sarah’s not very hopeful on that front either.”  
“Jesus,” said Chris as he stood at the curtains. “I don’t even remember doing it. Why would I be so _stupid_?!”  
Zach ignored the twinge of pain that brought and levelled his gaze at Chris’ naked back.  
“I don’t know. You were pretty drunk and kind of... manic.”  
“This was such a bad idea.”  
Zach was very careful to check that his voice worked before replying.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I said I didn’t want a relationship yet, Zach! I’m not sure how I _feel_ about this whole thing. The _last_ thing I want right now is for the whole fucking world to know about it. I’m not gay Zach! I’m not. I like women, scratch that, I _love_ women. Before you, I’d never even _looked_ at a guy that way. But you were always there, in my periphery, always available, always concerned. Then I get vulnerable and... there it is.”  
“Zach was shaking but it wasn’t hurt now, it was anger.  
“No. You don’t get to use that as a fucking emotional playing card. We talked about this and you said, you _promised_ that this was more than just loneliness and – and desperation on your part!”  
“I was not desperate! I just wasn’t in my right mind!”  
“So what was all of this then?” Zach asked bitterly. “Yesterday, last night, dinner, that _kiss_? Still out of your mind, were you? Because you seemed pretty level headed to me.”  
Chris pursed his lips, ready to retaliate. Then he sighed instead, letting his whole body slump forwards.  
“What are we going to do, Zach? This can’t happen. My career...”  
“And mine,” Zach added abruptly.  
Chris’ eyes flashed dark.  
“You know this is going to affect my career more than yours, Quinto.”  
“Oh, we’re back to last names are we? Well then, _Pine_ you might be Hollywood’s quintessential blue eyed boy but that doesn’t make this any more catastrophic for you compared to me! And if you want to start playing the blame game, there is _no way_ that I would’ve dragged us out to a club and then started _tonguing_ you in front of God knows who. I would have been happy to just stay _home_... with _you_!”  
Zach wondered when his anger had bled into pleading but it didn’t matter – Chris’ face softened into empathy before he lowered it into his hands. Zach got up slowly and walked over to him, so aware of his presence that he could have traced Chris’ outline in the dark.  
“Let’s just... go to this meeting and see where things are at. If we need to face the press in order to outmanoeuvre the story, then that’s what we’ll do – make sure that it’s on our terms as much as possible.”  
Hands on Chris’ arms and Zach could smell the heady scent of his own shampoo in Chris’ hair.  
“I feel like my whole life has been ripped out of my hands, Zach. Everything was _so right_ a few months ago. Now... I don’t want to share this with anyone. It’s the only thing I still had a say in, that I still had some control over.”  
Chris sighed and dropped his head on Zach’s shoulder.  
“I’m so over this.”  
For a moment, Zach thought that he meant them but only for a moment – it wasn’t their relationship that he was referring to. And it was in moments like this that Zach felt the same way.

The meeting had gone as predicted and Zach’s suggestion of beating the media to it and making a joint statement was met with approval. No one said it but at this stage, it was that or let the photos be published and that would create a far less manageable catastrophe.  
The magazine that had a hold of the photos had agreed not to publish them if they were given first rights to an official photo shoot at some later date. It seemed a good deal and Zach had the sneaking suspicion that they were hesitant to forge ahead and publish the photos without their consent – being sued was always a constant possibility in Hollywood.  
And so it was that Zach and Chris found themselves at Chris’ house sitting in silence by the hum of the fridge while they waited for the wave of post-statement hysteria to come crashing down on their heads. It didn’t take long before the first cameraman appeared outside Chris’ front gate. Then another and another until Zach started to entertain the idea of hiding under a blanket and never coming out again.  
As the shuffling murmur of the group outside continued, Zach spared a glance at Chris, who was sitting next to him, as tense as a fox with the scent of hound in its nostrils. He jerked when Zach gently closed his hand over his, before sending a shaky smile back and squeezing Zach’s hand.

They made dinner and Zach wondered if Noah was sleeping on the couch at home – such an absurd thought to have at a time like this that it almost made him laugh. The murmurs from outside changed as the light faded, becoming more intense.  
“Shh!” said Chris suddenly. “Can you hear that?”  
Zach cocked his head and tried to hear anything that hadn’t been present moments before.  
“No... Just the paps out the front.”  
Chris shook his head violently.  
“That’s who I mean! I know they’re waiting somewhere out there, waiting for both of us and now we can’t go back to how things were before. They all think I’m gay – my whole life is going to be pored over, scavenged for _hints_ and _signs_ that might have revealed what I ‘am’. Fuck! As if it’s always who I was, who I’ll always _be_.”  
Chris eyes were almost sky blue with emotion.  
“I knew who I was a week ago, a month ago. I knew exactly where I _fitted_. Now? Some fucker with camera and no fucking conscience gets to dictate who I am.”  
“Chris!” Zach urged. “It doesn’t matter what ‘they’ think – what do they know? _I_ know that this? This is real and that matters more to me than whatever happens out there,” Zach waved his hand dismissively at the front windows.  
“It may have been earlier than we’d have liked but odds are the tabs would have eventually found out about this. If you’re here, all the rest is just white noise to me.”  
He ran his hands gently over Chris’ spiky hair.  
“You may not be ‘gay’ but you don’t have to be to make _this_ special. You don’t need to conform to their labels.”  
Zach leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the curve of Chris’ ear.  
“Just make your own,” he whispered.


	7. Maddening Shroud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the songs from Frou Frou's album, _Details_. _Maddening Shroud_ is track 9 on the album and the lyrics for all the songs on _Details_ can be found [here](http://www.lyricsmania.com/details_album_lyrics_frou_frou.html).

“Another one?”  
“Yup.”  
Zach dropped a sheaf of papers onto the dining room table – the twelfth offer from a magazine, bidding to publish their ‘story’. The money was getting ridiculous but far from making things better, it was setting an already nervy Chris further on edge.  
“We really need to decide who we’re going to give the story to,” Chris muttered. “I can’t take much more of this and the sooner we get our side of the story out, the sooner all this will die down.”  
Zach nodded and turned back towards the kitchen, his hands tugging at the neck of his shirt. Chris couldn’t stand the idea of sitting still for a second longer, he leapt out of his chair and began to pace by the lounge room window. Another week of this and he would go crazy. Zach seemed to be handling it very well, considering. Then again, it was sometimes hard to read what Zach was thinking – his face could shut down so quickly. Chris’ mouth twisted into a grimace – if Zach ever discovered poker, he and all their friends were screwed.  
The papers glared at him from the table, taunting him with his future. Zach kept insisting that given a few weeks, their lives would return to normal – or as close to normal as was possible given the lives that they led – but all that Chris could feel was his world spinning out of control. This wasn’t where he thought his life would be – Zach should be someone that he could turn to, a part of his life that was a refuge from all the chaos that was the rest of his existence. Instead, Zach was part of the problem. And if he’d thought the paparazzi were bad before well, wait until he and Zach started going out in public – the frenzy would be unimaginable.  
The whole thing was just too much and Chris could feel his patience slipping. He stared at the small but ominous pile of letters sitting on the table – waiting for something to fall, something to break.  
“I can’t do this, I can’t I just can’t.”  
Zach turned around and looked at Chris, a puzzled expression riding his face.  
“Chris? Did you say something?”  
“I can’t do this, Zach.”  
Zach’s expression morphed into one of well worn patience.  
“It’ll all be over soon, it’ll die down, we just have to wait it out.”  
“No, no, no, no, no! I can’t do this anymore. Look, I grew up in this weird-ass town – and it never really got to me. I don’t know how you do it, you didn’t grow up here, surrounded by all the shit that goes on. You’re just coasting through all of this like it’s just one more hurdle to jump.” Chris stalked into the bedroom and Zach followed him, his steps unsure.  
“What... what are you doing?”  
Chris was rummaging through Zach’s wardrobe and pulling out the two or three pieces of clothing that were his. Turning around, he headed for the bedside table and swept his watch, keys and other minutiae into his hand.  
“Are you going somewhere?” Zach joked but his voice was strung tight.  
“I just have to... get out of here for a while. It’s like this weight is sitting on my head and I’m about to be crushed by it. Zach, I have to get out before I’m crushed.”  
“So... what, you’re just going to leave me here to face everyone on my own?”  
Chris sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to avoid Zach’s gaze.  
“Don’t you ever feel like you could just throw it all away?”  
Zach paused from a moment, uncertain before he quietly exhaled and sat down beside Chris.  
“You mean everything? All of it?”  
“Some days my strength just walks out, you know? And these last few days... Sometimes I just can’t even contemplate leaving the house. And then I feel so fucking weak for not being able to deal with this! Fuck, it all seems so futile!”  
Chris dared to look over at Zach. His lips were pressed tightly together and he looked solemn. If they had still been only friends Chris thought, that would have been all that he saw but now he had seen that face with all its barriers broken down, seen it as it smiled in unabashed joy, those dark eyes molten with desire – desire for him, now he had seen that he could read Zach’s body like it was his own. So it broke his heart a little to see that underneath Zach’s solemn face and stilled body was a lot of confusion and a lot of hurt.  
“Zach, I just think that maybe it’s time I took a break. With all of this stuff that’s happened between us and around us... I think I need to distance myself from it all for a bit, it’s all so _insane_.”  
“So that’s it? Things get a bit tough and you’re going to bail.”  
Zach didn’t look up, didn’t even raise his voice. He just stated what he already knew in a soft, low monotone, before he quietly stood up, padded over to the door and left Chris sitting on the bed.  
He wasn’t expecting it, wasn’t waiting for the sound, so when the front door shut, the noise echoing in the silence, Chris flinched.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat on the bed, with only the hum of outside traffic to keep him company but eventually he looked around for his bag and found it, half-kicked under the bed. As he knelt down on the carpet, his arm hooked on the top of the bedspread, he caught the slightest scent of Zach, trapped in the ice-grey sheets of the bed. All dark cologne and something else that was Zach, only Zach.  
Chris shook his head violently and staggered to his feet. He had to get out of this apartment, out of this city if only for a little while.  
The door shut in much the same way that it had when Zach left, heavily and with a disturbing sound of finality. Chris already had his sunglasses on but the light was so piercingly bright outside that he could feel himself squinting regardless. The well known sound of camera shutters clicked from across the street so Chris put on his game face and did what he did best.  
He pretended.

He pretended as he drove to his apartment, he pretended as he packed. He pretended as he flew to the other side of the country and as he threw his hastily-packed bags on the floor of his New York hotel room. It was raining outside his window but even that broken-hearted cliché wasn’t enough to spark any sort of emotion inside him, he was still pretending. Pretending that everything was fine when it patently wasn’t.  
Chris kept on pretending that everything was fine as he ordered a three course dinner with champagne for one. The bubbly was lightly aerated and beautifully flavoured and the food cooked to perfection but it all tasted like ashes and water in his mouth.  
He spent the better part of the next week in NY, mostly in the hotel but occasionally venturing out into the local cafes and shops. He avoided the clubs with a vengeance.  
Zach hadn’t called him at all and to be honest, Chris was slightly relieved. What could he have said to Zach on the phone that he couldn’t manage to tell him in person? He’d also managed to avoid any magazines that might have had references to him or Zach but something at the back of his head was niggling at him, telling him that he could only do this for so long. Sooner or later he’d have to make a decision to go back – to Hollywood and Zach, or to tear himself away from it all for good. Chris had never been one to prevaricate over a decision, so as the week had progressed, his self-loathing had risen sharply until one day, he metaphorically kicked himself in the ass and booked a flight back to Los Angeles, before going down the hotel bar to while away the last of his New York hours.  
That was where he met her and she was nothing like Michelle or Zach. Dark red hair and a molten-gold laugh that rolled warmly around the room. She was short as well, with curves that would have made a comic heroine cry with envy. She recognised Chris – he could tell when she turned to look at him. Recognition and... that was it. She knew who he was but all that meant to her was that she knew his name.  
“Hi. Chris, right?”  
This was where he could bail – be polite but firm and head back to his room, spend his last hours there. But he was still pretending and what did it matter if he pretended for just a little bit longer?  
“Yeah. Nice to meet you,” he replied as they shook hands. “What’s your name?”  
“Celia. Celia Lewis. Pleased to meet you too.”  
She smiled and it was like rain on parched earth to Chris.  
He could feel himself relaxing as they settled down into the well know rhythm of questions and answers, their light flirtation gracing it all with an edge of possibility. He felt so confident here – this was something that he’d done so many times before and he could feel his sense of self reforming in his mind, solidifying as he placed his hand over hers in an almost unconscious gesture of invitation.  
It was hot and perfect and so desperately, desperately wrong that Chris wasn’t sure whether the tears sliding out of the edge of his eyes and into his hair as he lay naked beside her sleeping body were ones of happiness or of total despair. Whatever they were, he knew that he couldn’t pretend anymore. He needed to go home.  
She was gone before he woke and all that was left of her was her subtle perfume as he packed his bags and silently left the room. The flight was uneventful and there were less paparazzi than he expected waiting for him at the airport. They didn’t bother him as much as he thought either – they couldn’t make him into someone he wasn’t, they couldn’t threaten his sense of being unless he wasn’t sure himself. And he _was_ sure now, he was a sure as the sun that was rising to his east. But telling Zach? The very thought of what he was going to do to him made his heart ache.


	8. Only Got One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the songs from Frou Frou's album, _Details_. _Only Got One_ is track 6 on the album and the lyrics for all the songs on _Details_ can be found [here](http://www.lyricsmania.com/details_album_lyrics_frou_frou.html).

He came in the door, hair still ruffled from his journey, luggage still wrapped around his wrists, his arms corded with the effort of holding them. The look on his face was... no, he couldn’t read it, couldn’t read _him_ – it was as though he stared at a stranger and that scared him more than anything else.  
“Where did you go?”  
“New York.”  
Zach nodded to show that he’d heard, his head swimming with the possibilities.  
“I was going to go home first but I thought... I thought I should let you know that I was back.”  
“You could have just rung me.”  
Chris shifted his weight, readjusting his hold on the bags.  
“Yeah but there’s stuff I need to tell you, decisions I’ve made. If I went home I could avoid telling you and that can’t happen. This needs to be said.”  
The evil butterflies in Zach’s stomach morphed into knives and he felt his expression slide into something detached and impersonal – if he had to feel this, please God don’t let it show, don’t let him see it.  
“Can I... put my stuff down?”  
Why was he asking? A week ago they had been sharing a bed, now there was a hesitation in everything they did around each other – men tip-toeing over a sea of shattered glass.  
“Sure.”  
Chris dropped his bags by the front door, where he had been standing since he arrived. He looked at a loss as to what to do next. Zach tried to ignore the butterflies-come-knives in his belly and offered Chris a beer.  
“Uh, yeah that’d be great,” he replied and they both headed into the kitchen, Chris propping himself up against the bench while Zach went to the fridge.

“So,” Zach started, his face still hidden by the door of the fridge, “what’s this thing that you so desperately need to tell me?”  
Chris’ grip on the counter behind him tightened and he fixed his gaze on the brand name etched into the fridge door. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Zach craned back to look at him.  
“What, you don’t want to talk about it? Should I be scared?” he joked, but it was a poor shadow of humour.  
“Is it a lie if I say maybe?”  
Zach closed the fridge door quietly and folded his arms.  
“Okay. Then let’s have it.”  
“I had a lot of time to think in the past week, away from everything, everyone and I came to some pretty big decisions.”  
Zach nodded as he tried to stop his fingernails from digging into the sides of his arms. Chris took a deep breath and brought his head up to look Zach squarely in the eyes.  
“I love you.”  
It was stated so firmly and so obviously that Zach’s stomach dropped in beautiful slow motion, the way that it does on a plane dropping in altitude with breath-stealing speed. It was that first step off the cliff, that dip before a hill and Zach blissfully dismissed all of those moments in favour of this one.  
“And it’s not just that I love you,” Chris continued, “I love you to the point where I don’t want to be with anyone else, to the point where all that paparazzi crap just falls away and there’s just you and me.”

Chris pushed away from the bench and walked forward, placing his hands on the sides of Zach’s face.  
“I love you like there’s not enough air to breathe in the room. I could _live_ for the smell of you, the feel of you, your laugh, your evil grin. You’re _everything_ in my life that’s right and you have been through _so_ much shit to be with me.”  
Zach’s hands slid slowly up Chris’ forearms until they rested against his hands. Chris’ gaze, so intense a moment before dimmed and he moved away from Zach, hands following hands until they stood, body to body, fingers linked like they were completing a circuit.  
“And I’m just hoping that all of that’s enough to get us past what I’m about to tell you because I also made a very stupid mistake while I was away.”  
Hands tightened and both men braced themselves against their own terrifying expectations.  
“I slept with someone in New York.”  
There was an ache in Zach’s head, spreading all over his body, followed quickly by a numbness that some dispassionate part of his mind observed was probably better than the alternative. He looked down at his hands and noticed that they were facing him, palms up – he’d let go of Chris.  
“Zach? Z-zach, can you hear me?”

Zach kept looking at his hands, the long sweep of his hair falling like a shroud over his eyes.  
“Her name was Celia and... I’d love to say it meant nothing, Zach but honestly, without her I don’t think I’d have come to the understanding about myself that I did. I know it hurts but I was in such a bad place and she was so... so... _normal_ that... It was just nice to pretend for a bit. Like nothing had ever changed. But it _had_ changed, Zach, I know that now. And going back to that, to what I knew, what I thought I still wanted... it was like putting on your favourite sweater from years ago – it’s still wonderful to look at, even wear but it doesn’t _fit_ anymore. It just feels wrong and I’m so, so sorry that I had to betray you like that to finally understand. God, Zach I am _so sorry_.”  
Chris had seen the single tear tracing its way down Zachary’s face, nearly hidden by the sheaf of hair.  
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, horrified at what he’d done to the man he loved.  
Zach just shook his head mutely. Slowly at first and then with an increasing vehemence.  
“No, no, no I don’t wanna hear his, I don’t.”  
“Zach.”  
“No! You thought fucking some girl to ‘fix’ yourself would be okay with me?! I’d love to hear the line of thought that brought you to that conclusion but I don’t think my mind could follow something that twisted.”

He was angry. Good, he could do angry. If he stayed angry this emptiness in the middle of his chest might not consume him.  
“ _Please_ , Zach. _Please_ understand. I _love you_ , I wish I’d never met her, I wish I’d never...”  
Zach was smiling but it was unlike any smile that Chris had ever seen. It made him want to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness... or possibly mercy.  
“Any chance we had, any chance of this actually working, you’ve ruined.”  
“Don’t say that,” Chris whispered, “I know I made mistakes but the position I was in, the position they put me in...”  
“They?”  
“The tabloids the publicity of it all. Neither of us wanted that and it made things so difficult. I wasn’t ready for all that. If they had...”  
“You’re blaming other people for _your_ mistakes? Wow, I didn’t think you were that much of a coward, Pine.”  
Last names. Chris could feel everything slipping away from him, everything that he had finally decided he wanted. Too late, too slow, too cowardly to take a chance when it actually mattered. Their beers stood unopened on the bench, all of their flavour and effervescence trapped inside – potential unrealised.

Zach had moved back to lean against the fridge and his voice was as cold as its contents.  
“So. What if I forgave you for all of this – placated your guilty conscience, what then? We keep going? Muted, colourless? When you smiled at me, could I trust that it was you, that it was real? When I came in you, cried out _your_ name, could you trust that I meant it? That I wasn’t thinking of someone else, someone I’d been with to wash away the pain of you?”  
It was Chris’ face that was wet with tears now, not that much of it could be seen – buried as it was in the palms of his hands.  
Zach scoffed.  
“Honestly, are you telling me this because you want to be open? You want to be honest – get it off your chest? Or do you want to be truthful so that _I’ll_ be truthful? You know, ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’? ‘I did this horrible thing and I’m telling you so feel free to tell me some horrible things you’ve done to make me feel better about what I did?’”  
“No,” Chris replied shakily.  
“Who knows,” Zach dismissed bitterly, “Fuck, I don’t know if I can believe a _word_ you say sometimes.”  
Chris looked up from his hands, eyes so blue from tears and emotion that they could have cut through diamonds.  
“Then believe this. No matter what you say, how you feel about what I did, whether you think you can _ever_ forgive me – no matter what, I will do everything, _everything_ I can to fix this, to make you love me again.”  
“Don’t be so pathetic,” Zach retorted, but it was without the venom of earlier – pain was beginning to overwhelm the anger.  
“I don’t care if it is pathetic, Zach. I finally, _finally_ found the strength to be with you. I’m not going to lose you... lose all of this – the life that we could have together because I made the worst fucking decision of my life.”  
He walked to the front door and picked up his bags, wrapping them with cruel tightness around his wrists.  
“I’m going to go home and unpack. Then I’m going to figure out what I have to do to make this right. Zach?”  
Zach looked up at him from the kitchen doorway, all shadows and silence.  
“I am going to make this right. I love you to pieces, you understand? I promise I’ll make you smile again.”  
With that he was out the door and Zach was left to slide down the doorjamb, his knees pulled up to his chest. He didn’t know when the shaking started but he knew that darkness came long before he had the power to stand.


	9. Hear Me Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the songs from Frou Frou's album, _Details_. _Hear Me Out_ is track 8 on the album and the lyrics for all the songs on _Details_ can be found [here](http://www.lyricsmania.com/details_album_lyrics_frou_frou.html).

“You have... six new messages...”  
“Hey. I’m joining the queue on your answer phone... and all I am is holding breath.”

It felt like he’d been home for weeks – trapped in the same pattern of thought: ‘I have to find a way to fix this, I have to find a way, I have to.’  
He’d spent the first day walking around his house, tracing the same route over and over, picking apart everything that he and Zach had said to each other. He tried to concentrate on how he could fix things and get Zach to forgive him but every time he tried, every time, all he could hear were Zach’s bitter words whispered in his ear:  
 _‘I didn’t think you were that much of a coward, Pine... Any chance we had, you ruined’_.  
There had to be a way to fix this. He’d done a terrible thing but Zach loved him, he’d forgive him, he’d understand what happened, if Chris could just find the right thing to say.

His New York luggage still lay unpacked on the floor of his bedroom that night when he went to sleep. Or rather, tried to sleep – peaceful oblivion seemed wrong and the Sandman was nowhere to be seen. In his absence he left an eternal loop of that soul-ripping moment, when a solitary tear had slid down Zach’s face.  
Eventually he fell into dreams but they were dark and unforgiving – trails of aching pain and moans unheard in the dark. He dreamt that Zach and he stood on the edge of a waterfall, the roar of it filling their ears with thunderous power. Zach turned to him, his face spattered with droplets of water and smiled so beautifully at Chris that he felt his fear at standing by the precipice melt away. Zach said something to him as his smile fell into solemnity but Chris couldn’t hear it over the roar of the water. He shouted at Zach to repeat it and Zach tried again... and again... and again but every time Chris felt only the faintest of voices grace his ears. When he again shook his head in frustration, Zach placed his hands over his heart and smiled once more but this time it gave Chris no comfort to witness. If the first had been full of laughter and light, this was filled with the most unbearable sadness, sadness and soul-shattering resignation. Before Chris could reach out a hand to bring Zach to him, Zach had turned and stepped, without hesitation over the edge of the roaring waterfall, leaving Chris screaming into the mists of water and dreams.

He was covered in cold sweat when he woke and before he had even registered the thought, he was turning to the bedside phone, searching for waiting messages in the lights of the LCD display. Nothing there and the cold dread of the dream washed over him again. The shadows were pale and long as they speared through his window – very early morning.  
There was nothing to keep him in bed so he forced himself to get up, get dressed, have breakfast. His New York bags were taunting him when he returned to the bedroom so he dumped their contents onto the bed and made a pile for washing and one for putting away.  
Opening the door of his walk in closet he began to systematically put away all of his shirts, pausing when he hung his steel blue shirt next to a very familiar skin tight top with black and white stripes. It was quirky and a little Village People and so undeniably Zach that it looked out of place, cast as it was against the backdrop of his own orderly shirts and cardigans. Chris stood frozen in the fear of that moment, the fear that very soon the shirt could be gone from his wardrobe, along with all of the other small minutiae that reminded Chris of Zach’s presence in his life. That god awful hat that still hung on the stand by his front door, the pillow that Zach had insisted made sitting on his couch more comfortable.  
And all of a sudden putting his shirts away beside Zach’s seemed wrong.  
Chris reached out a hand and pulled a black and white sleeve closer to him, rubbing his thumb over the thin, stretchy material. The desire to bury his face in the shirt and inhale Zach’s scent was almost overwhelming and Chris found himself unwilling to fight it.  
Pulling the shirt to him, he closed his eyes and took the deepest breath he could, letting the flashing stream of images and memories it provoked wash over him like water. And Chris knew that for as long as he lived, if he ever caught that scent riding on the wind he would think of Zach, would expect him to be standing there, waiting for him as he turned to meet that perfume.  
He made a sound of frustration and let the shirt slip back amongst the forest of tops, its monochrome appearance still standing out starkly against the muted colours.

“Just pick up, I know you’re there. Can’t you tell? I’m not myself...”

That second day Chris spent cleaning up his house, doing the washing, tidying floors and shelves, cleaning out the refrigerator. Every step, every moment felt wrong – the sweep of a broom over his kitchen floor felt like patting a dog’s fur the wrong way. Once he was done he found himself sitting on the edge of the couch, clutching Zach’s pillow to his chest. He stared into space for who knew how long, willing himself to come up with something, anything. An idea or the shadow of a plan but Zach’s voice kept intruding:  
 _‘Fuck, I don’t know if I can believe a_ word _you say sometimes...’_  
Chris groaned and pulled his hands through his hair, this wasn’t helping – he need to get out and actually _do_ something.  
He headed into the city, walking by shop after shop – each one feeling wrong, feeling off. Finding a small cafe he sat down and ordered one, then two, then four lattes and lost himself in the coffee rings and fingerprints until the light began to fade over the tops of the trees. He took out his cell phone and scrolled to Zach’s number, staring at it in the late afternoon LA light.

“Go ahead and lie to me, you can say _anything_. Small talk would be just fine. It’s your voice that’s everything.”

By the third day, the ache in Chris’ chest was a dull, constant companion, the lost little brother of Zach’s grief. Life was moving on as it always did – a pitiless slave driver, cold to pleas for sympathy. Chris found himself jogging by Zach’s house on his morning run but he didn’t dare stop – Zach’s curtains were drawn tight and there were no reassuring barks from Noah, a cacophony of sound welcoming friends and burglars alike. The house felt wrong as did the presence of the paparazzi outside and Chris spared a moment to wonder how all of this heartbreak would play after their official statement announcing that he and Zach were involved. They had worded that document so carefully. Revealing everything that they couldn’t hide but making no allusions to a ‘relationship’ or anything more than the kiss that had been witnessed would reveal. Chris had made sure that love wasn’t mentioned at all. Oh, he’d been so careful to shield himself – to take the revelations over his sexuality but not the seriousness of his feelings for Zach... or Zach’s feelings for him. He’d managed to keep himself so distant from Zach that this infidelity must seem like the last nail in the coffin for Zach. This wasn’t just one show of unreliability on his part; it was the culmination of their entire relationship, from beginning to end.

Chris made sure he was around the corner and well out of sight of the cameras before he stumbled to a halt and grabbed for balance against the cool scrape of a white stucco wall.  
From beginning to end. He been friendly to Zach on set, then he’d shut him out, ignored him, accused him, wished him away. Zach threw all of his feelings into one desperate last chance and Chris dismissed him, got angry, got scared, got Zach away from him. Then they finally found a way to be friends again and Chris pushed Zach into breaking all of the delicate walls he had put up to shield himself from getting hurt in one selfish moment of desperate need, only to throw it back in his face when the world discovered what Chris had seen as shame. But Zach had taken it all in stride, had seen that Chris was taking the Big Reveal harder than he was. So he had been patient with him, gentle, his rock, his guide through waters that were too deep for him to swim alone. Even when Chris pushed him away and declared that really, Zach was part of the problem, he had let him go – Chris’ needs over his own once again.  
And then he’d come home, declaring his love like a bloodstained warrior – the guilt of his actions still running red down his own personal armour. Oh yes, he _loved_ Zach with _everything_ that was in him but not enough for him to be the one he turned to, the one whom, with one night of passion could reveal the very centre of him. No, he proved all of Zach’s fears right when he left him to fend for himself, one wolf amongst a pack of hyenas.

There was no fourth day of waiting or planning. Chris just sat at home, with the phone cradled in his hand. One phone call after the other, until the answer tape filled up and he was cut off, letting the phone fall with a muffled thunk to the carpet. Everything felt so _wrong_ as he lay down on the couch, one arm flung over his eyes, the other fisted tightly around Zach’s pillow.

“So listen up, Zach. I refuse to believe that’s it’s only me that’s feeling this. It’s love on the line, okay? Please just hear me out. I’m not over you yet.”

The call was unexpected and it woke Chris abruptly from his cramped sleep on the couch. Blindly sweeping the floor for the phone, he managed instead to knock it under the sofa in his haste. Panicking now, he rolled himself onto the floor and reached into the dust-filled darkness beneath the couch. The phone kept insisting in strident tones that he answer it and Chris grunted in satisfaction when the tips of his fingers finally found it.  
“Hello?”  
“It’s me.”  
Well? Chris had been waiting, praying for days that Zach would speak to him, answer his calls and now as he sat, legs outstretched on the floor of his living room, his mind was a blank slate. Not a single coherent thought crossed his mind and all he was, all he could be now was holding breath.  
Neither man seemed anxious to break the silence; instead each listened to the quiet murmur of breath from the other, as it crossed the stretch of the phone lines.  
A shift of movement from Zach’s end spurred Chris’ mouth into motion and he blurted the first thing he could think of.  
“How’s Noah?”  
“Noah’s good, he’s fine.”  
Such short sentences, Chris thought, from a man so gifted in language.  
“And you? How are you... doing?”  
A shift into more dangerous territory here and Chris could only pray that the little luck he had left would hold with him a little longer.  
“You know me,” Zach said, “I always bounce back.”  
A shiver of something ran down Chris’ spine like ice dropped down the back of a shirt.  
“I’m glad that you’re letting me talk to you.”  
That had to be a good sign, right?  
“No point leaving you hanging, Chris. I don’t hate you, as much as Joe says I should.”  
That hurt Chris more than he had expected – losing Joe’s respect was second only to losing Zach’s.  
“No,” Zach continued, “I don’t hate you and as much as what you did hurt me... I owe you this conversation.”  
“Did... did you get my messages?” Chris asked. It seemed important that Zach understand how hard he was trying.  
Silence on the line, then:  
“Yes... yes I did get them but... I needed time to get my head together, take a few steps back, you know?”  
Oh how well Chris knew – Zach’s words were a passionless echo of his own foolish sentiments a week earlier.  
“Yeah, sure,” he stammered.  
“Yeah. Anyway – there’s a job that’s Sarah’s been trying to get me to do for a while and I’ve decided to take it. It’s-uh... it’s in New York,” Zach nearly scoffed the last few words, “which I s’pose should be funny. I’m heading out this Friday.”  
Friday. Friday? That was three days away.  
“For how long?” Chris’ voice was strangled.  
“Don’t know exactly, a few months at least.”  
And so this was how they were going to end – not with a bang but a whimper. Everything he had hoped for, stripped away by his own stupidity.  
“What about us? This?... You’re just leaving?”  
“Sound familiar does it?” Zach accused before he sighed in exhaustion, “Look, let’s not do this, okay? Let’s just end this quietly – no screaming, no accusations. I’m _tired_ of all the emotions that I have to feel around you, Chris, I want to feel steady again, I want to be on solid ground again. I never really was with you.”  
The plastic shell of the phone creaked as Chris held it in a bone-crushingly tight embrace, while words fled from his lips.  
“Maybe in a year or so, when Trek comes back around we can be friends again. I’d like that,” Zach said, sounding almost surprised at is own wish.  
“What do I do?” Chris asked, lost in the blinding sunlight of his living room.  
“Just... go back to normal,” Zach replied, “everything should be easier for you now. No big decisions, no friends asking more than you can give. Just go back to being Chris Pine.”  
The way Zach said it, as if he really meant it...  
“Normal. So how do I do normal? Fake a smile? Take a new job and follow that eternal line of cue cards and fix it kits? Can’t you tell? That’s not me anymore!”  
Another sigh coasting over the phone.  
“I don’t think you know _who_ you are, Chris. I hope someday you figure it out, I really do – truly but I can’t let you drag me through all of that with you. Nearly a year of it – watching from near and far and... It’s too intense, too painful. You’re like a constant arrow through my heart.  
“Let me fix it, please,” Chris pleaded. “These last few days... I’ve been like a slow motion accident – everything I do feels so catastrophically wrong without you. God I don’t wanna feel anything, Zach but I do. And it all comes back to you; it always comes back to you.”  
“Finally we agree,” Zach replied calmly, “because I don’t want to feel this anymore either.”  
“ _Please_!” Chris whispered – he could feel his throat tightening as tears threatened but he shut them down with a ruthless force of will – he wouldn’t let Zach hear him like this, he wouldn’t play that card, “just hear me out.”  
“I can’t.”  
“We’re in this together.”  
“Not anymore.”  
“This is _love_ on the line!”  
“I _know_.”  
“Please, I can’t take this!”  
“Neither can I!”  
“I can’t do this without you, Zach.”  
“You have to – because you’re no good for me. I have to move on from you, Chris. I have to strive for something safer, something better.”  
Something stuck hard in his throat and Chris wanted to reach through the phone for Zachary’s hand. Even now, at the end of all things, he reached for Zach – that one, last shining strand of light in his life.  
“Is that your final answer?” he asked but it was a formality – that light was already dimming.  
“Goodbye Chris,” Zach replied, “Stay safe. Please.”  
Then there was only the dial tone and the harsh sound of a man who refuses to cry as his world falls down around him.

It was the day of Zach’s departure and Chris found himself walking along a beach while the sharp wind pulled eddies of sand into existence around his legs.  
Near five o’clock he found a dune that was reasonably uncrowded and settled down, his arms wrapped around his legs. He stared out at the gently washing sea as it shimmered with orange-gold fire and conjured images of dark hair and darker eyes emerging from the water – salt-washed and sun-warmed – just another chance at memory that he’d destroyed. There would be no gold-washed beach remembrances, no crazy restaurant anecdotes, no bizarre at-home antics, told to friends on a drunken night of beer and movies.  
At five-fifteen only the sky and his watch held his attention. He liked to think that he knew when Zachary’s feet left LA soil but some harsher part of him pulled his romantic wishes apart – they had done him no good, they had no place here anymore.  
At five-thirty Chris Pine left his gold and silver dreams behind in the swirling sand of the ever-shifting dunes.


	10. Flicks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the songs from Frou Frou's album, _Details_. _Flicks_ is track 10 on the album and the lyrics for all the songs on _Details_ can be found [here](http://www.lyricsmania.com/details_album_lyrics_frou_frou.html).

It happened at a funeral, which Chris distantly thought was a little bit of an odd place to have such a revelation.  
Everyone around him was crying quietly or at least standing in solemn silence but Chris – only a distant relation to the deceased – had let his mind wander as the priest had read over the lowering of the coffin. She had been a great aunt, one that he had visited only a few times when he was a child.  
No one seemed to notice as he cast his gaze over the stand of trees beyond the gravesite, the words of the priest fading into the background. The force of his revelation had left Chris a little breathless and he found after a moment that he’d stopped breathing – the pressure was building slowly against the inside of his chest.  
Drawing in a breath, deep and long, he tried to hold onto the flittering thought that had crossed his mind. It had been a feeling of... He couldn’t find the words. Lightness? No, not quite – more the lifting of a weight, like the greatest of burdens had just been taken from his shoulders. What had he been thinking about?  
Zach.

And that was unsurprising really. Zach had been ever-present in his thoughts for a long time now. He’d like to say that he’d lost count of how long it had been since... whatever it was they had had together ended but he knew exactly, to the day how long it had been. Four months, two weeks and five days... but that knowledge didn’t bring its usual stab of pain, it was simply a fact. A little sad perhaps but no longer some terrifying record of time, reminding him that every moment tore him further away from those moments of love and happiness.  
So what had changed? He conjured an image of Zach as he remembered him, all dark colour and passion and found himself smiling. He imagined how Zach was doing on the New York stage –Iago to another man’s Othello – and the only emotion he felt was sadness at not being able to witness Zach make the role his own, as he inevitably would.

The priest was finishing the last of the ceremony – ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Chris watched as his family gathered around the coffin to pay their last respects and suddenly he was compelled to join them. Children and grandchildren, mingled together in varying shades of family resemblance. As each threw their own fist of dirt onto the coffin below them, Chris fell into step behind, sinking his fingers into the cool grit of the grave-dirt. The people ahead of him murmured heartfelt words and emotions but they were for the ears of the dead and Chris kept a respectful distance.  
His turn came and he found himself at a loss for words to speak. Death had never frightened him as such but it had confused him – not just the death itself but all of the ritual that went with it. The hole in the ground before him wasn’t the woman he’d once met –all aniseed and fresh cotton – and so he spoke to the few memories he had of her instead. The shyness of a child meeting a strange woman who swept him up in a hug that only family could get away with, the small bowl of foil-wrapped chocolate balls that sat like glittering treasure on the polished mahogany of the dining table, the murmur of her voice as she and the other adults talked above his head – a reassuring roll of nonsensical noise.  
“Goodbye, Aunty Dee,” he said as he threw down the soil as gently as he could.  
It was all about memories really, what you chose to recall – the moments that would warm you as you sat with a glass of wine, watching a movie or listening to a song that reminded you of a lost friend or relation. Or lover.

Chris let the rest of the mourners file out of the graveyard in a long, slow line of dull black cloth. He remained behind, standing by the open grave, still thinking, still trying to work out who he was really saying goodbye to.  
The rustle of wind through foliage eventually became the only other noise save for Chris’ feet as he crunched his way through the gravel of the footpath. He wandered past tombstones, some littered with flowers and cards, others as bare as the earth of the freshly dug graves.  
It was to those headstones that he was drawn – the forgotten people, the memories that had finally passed the same way as the people, until these stones were the only marks of them left in the world.  
It all came back to memories – the links in the chains of remembered history, good and bad. And perhaps that was the lesson. There would always be the bad memories, the trick; the lesson was to know them to be unchangeable. Hang on to the good memories and leave the bad behind.

He tried to think of this in relation to Zach... and found that the bad memories didn’t rip into him as they once had. He turned to the light-washed memories of them having coffee, wrestling with Noah, getting drunk together – and felt that gentle press of fondness and an almost-nostalgia that came with time. It was the same way that he felt recalling his memories of Aunty Dee and that more than anything; let Chris understand what was happening.  
He was letting go of Zach.  
Letting go of all the guilt and angst that he had been feeling for so long. Moving on, moving forward.  
And Chris couldn’t help but think that if Zach could see him now, he’d smile.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He met Zoe at the after party drinks for some forgettable Hollywood blockbuster. It had been awhile since he had seen anyone but Zach from the Trek cast and the first half an hour of their conversation was taken up with discussions and banter about who was doing what –anecdotes from Zoe about John and Karl, even one about Simon and a public fountain that Chris really thought should be written down for posterity’s sake.  
But eventually that well of conversation ran dry and Zoe turned to the one topic she had been avoiding.  
“So... have you talked to Zach lately?”  
Chris smiled at her enigmatically, sipping his beer.  
“Not since he left for New York. I heard his play’s doing well though.”  
“Oh yeah,” replied Zoe in a strange voice, “the play’s the thing.”  
“Very funny,” snorted Chris, not noticing the tone, “but that’s _Hamlet_ , not _Othello_.”  
“It’s all Shakespeare,” Zoe sniffed as she recrossed her legs.  
“Well, I’m glad to hear it. That Zach’s doing so well I mean.”  
Zoe’s face sobered.  
“I didn’t say that.”  
“But you said...”  
“I said that his play was doing well... Actually, I didn’t even say _that_ though it is true.” Zoe sighed and leaned forward to meet Chris’ eyes, “It’s the play that has me worried.”  
“He’s... he’s not doing well? But – “  
“Have you read any of his reviews?” Zoe interrupted suddenly.  
Chris flushed slightly. He may have been able to think of Zach without pain now but having to witness how happy and successful he was – how easily _he_ had moved on... No, he hadn’t been that brave.  
“No, I... no.”  
Zoe grabbed her iPhone out of her bag and typed in an address, pursing her lips as she waited for the page to load.  
“Here,” she said as she passed Chris the phone, “It’s from the _New York Times_.”  
Chris, already slightly confused, became more so as he read through the newspaper’s review.

 _The stage is dark and the speeches darker as_ Othello _– the classic Shakespearean play of love, jealousy and betrayal – makes its way onto the Broadway stage. Thomas Bennington’s modern revival of the Elizabethan tale could have very easily gone the way of many modern renditions but with his superb new script and a very successful choice of actors, this is one of the best new adaptations of a Shakspearean play in a long time.  
Set in modern day America, Othello (played by British born Idris Elba) is a man in the service of his country. The son of an African immigrant he is sent to Iraq as a Colonel, alongside his trusted aides and fellow soldiers, Iago (Zachary Quinto) and Cassio (Josh Hopkins).  
Interestingly, Desdemona (Tricia Helfer) is also written as a soldier and her illicit marriage to Othello leads to what is closer to a military court-martial than the racially-motivated trial at the hands of Brabantio that occurs in the original play. Helfer brings a wonderful duality to the often extremely passive role of Desdemona but it is Quinto in the role of Iago that is the standout in this production. From the first, Quinto brings with him a roiling mass of barely restrained energy, his Iago a deeply passionate and deeply frustrated man. From his intense manipulation of Othello and others to his fragile hostility against all who dare to engage with him, Quinto projects the despairing, revenging anger of a man deeply wronged and comes as close as any to making the character of Iago a sympathetic one. His final scene with Othello is perhaps, one of the most riveting pieces of theatre on Broadway today and Elba’s headstrong Othello plays against Quinto’s damaged soldier beautifully.  
Set designer Sasha Redford’s creations have lent the play an almost sepia-like tone, with the Iraq scenes presented like..._

Chris stopped reading and sat back in his chair, Zoe’s phone cradled in the heat of his hand. A member of the public reading that review would have only seen the positive but it sent knives of ice down Chris’ spine. He imagined it hadn’t done wonders for Zoe either... or Joe, if he had read it.  
“I’ve spoken to him a few times in the last few months,” Zoe sighed, “and he seemed fine – a little distant maybe but fine. The one time I met him, the way he was around his new boyfriend – “  
Chris flinched involuntarily – he hadn’t known about that.  
“ – it didn’t seem... healthy to me. And now this review? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where the motivation for his character’s coming from.”  
“He seemed so sure, so determined to move on,” Chris insisted, “and you say he’s got a new boyfriend? Everything should be fine, everything...”  
Chris rubbed his hands over his eyes, of all the possibilities; this was the last thing he had imagined for Zach. The fact that he had played no small part in Zach’s current... emotional state, was busily chipping away at his newly discovered peace.  
Zoe gave him a look that was half compassion, half frustration.  
“I know, honey. I debated even telling you, since there’s not much you... or I come to that, can do.”  
“But... it’s been four months since... I mean, maybe I can call him or text him... email him!”  
Zoe looked at Chris again, that same look on her face.  
“You can’t do that and you know it. If he’s still that... damaged from your relationship, then you’re the last person that can help.”  
“So what can I do?” argued Chris, “I need to do _something_ , Zoe, this is all my fault.”  
“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, Chris. Yes, you did kind of screw him over – ”  
Chris grimaced.  
“ – And boy do I wish I’d thought of a better phrase there,” Zoe continued, “but Zach has had hang-ups about betrayal since before you met up. I don’t want to tell secrets that aren’t mine but suffice it to say, it’s a long standing issue for him and not _entirely_ your fault.”  
Chris gave her a watery smile.  
“Hey don’t get me wrong, it’s still mostly your fault,” she joked and Chris half-heartedly kicked her leg underneath the table.  
“So what do I do then?” he asked.  
Zoe grew serious as she stopped rubbing her shin in mock pain.  
“You wait. Until he wants to talk to you... if he ever does. You wait.”


	11. The Dumbing Down Of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the songs from Frou Frou's album, _Details_. _The Dumbing Down Of Love_ is track 11 on the album and the lyrics for all the songs on _Details_ can be found [here](http://www.lyricsmania.com/details_album_lyrics_frou_frou.html).

He stands over the man sprawled on the sheets – his body all tanned skin and sweat.  
Well painted passion, he thinks. You rightly expect it. Impersonation. The dumbing down of love. You can see my eyes; you know that I’m pretending. Love is just a false rush of colour, the poisoned scarf that blinds you. I can touch you forever but never feel you. You can reach for me but I wouldn’t bother trying.  
The dark body stares up at him, watching his eyes, his face, searching for some emotion, some truth that he always fails to find.  
Jaded in anger, he thinks – looking at those dulled-brown eyes. Love underwhelms you. Never rewarded, whichever way you fall – in or out of love. You stroke my face and your hands may be warm but your eyes stay so cold.  
Movement turns to stillness as the first cold rush of absence gives way to the mindless heat of lust. Hands on bodies, random grunts of passion, interspersed with the growls of possession and control – all the darker emotions. He feels it, as it starts to build deep in his body – that restless coil of need, twisted with the pain, the pointlessness of experience – and he drives it to the surface, forcing that other man to feel it, as he cannot. They ride together and for a moment, the physical pleasure overwhelms all and there is nothing but this one, bliss-frozen moment.

But those moments never last. The man beneath him is looking away, averting his eyes, though not from a blinding light – he looks away from the darkness, afraid that it will take him too.  
Anything past this point of release is unimportant to him, so he rolls off the man with the averted eyes and goes to make himself a drink – something harsh and biting... and pure – not dirty with cola or ice. Ice. Ice melts to water, water runs and suddenly, he’s thinking of tears tracing the soft edges of a face.  
He skulls the drink quickly, desperate to shatter the glass on the warmed bricks of an open fire – but he has no fire and perhaps that is lucky – he’s not sure if he could stop at just one glass.

His throat is still burning from the spirits as he goes back into the bedroom to find his clothes. The man is still lying there, sprawled out like a debauched god on the berry-purple sheets of the bed. He’s still not looking at him but he doesn’t need to see his eyes to know that there’s pain in them, the kind of pain that grows not from losing but from never possessing in the first place.  
That man senses more than hears the shift of a body around the room – it’s always this way, no talking, no connection. He’s desperate for more but he’s so afraid of losing the little that he has.  
He braves the dark and turns towards the shifting footsteps. There he is – all poisoned grace – his hair ungelled and limply falling before his eyes. What does he feel in this moment, he wonders. And how long can he go on like this, before the last chance of rescue crumbles beneath uncounted years of indifference? What if I told him, he thinks, watching as that panther-grace slides clothes over skin. If I tell you – lover alone without love? What will happen?  
His form moves towards the door, sparing the shortest of glances towards the bed, looking at feet, chest, arms... never eyes.  
Will you listen – lover alone without, oh, without love?

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

No, no, I’ll get this he says, dark glasses in place – protection for more than just his eyes.  
I want to treat you. You’re still not famous and you haven’t struck it rich.  
The gesture should be endearing but it leaves the other man cold. He smiles and he gives but it’s all from the head – he thinks it, he doesn’t feel it – and the man realises that he has never really seen his heart.  
You’re underachieving because no one’s receiving. Love just washes over you like a careless breeze – catches your words, ruffles your hair, brings that red blush to your cheeks... Then it passes on, and you’re left alone and untouched. Don’t you want to be touched?

He signs for the bill and grabs his coat from the back of his chair. There’s no flourish, no quirk of the lips, just smiling stone and the man begins to think that this tunnel vision is turning out all wrong, and unconditional love doesn’t work when you only love the lost.  
Love, like music, is worthless unless it can break you down, make you cry. The heart has to rip a little if it’s to truly feel and there is no bliss without agony.  
He believes that’s when he comes to a decision, as he braves the chill of the early spring night. That man needs to feel, to be _made_ to feel before that last flick of love fades. But not with him – that painted passion needs to be stripped away by someone who knows the masterpiece beneath. And it’s not him, it was never him and the knowledge hurts, even as he concedes that this man was never truly his.

Now, standing at the street corner, he lowers those glasses and lets him see the demand beneath. He wants this body, wants to take it, own it, feel that tiny flick of perfection, as if it’s the last gold-lit ember in a world growing steadily dark. So the man lets himself be dragged home, lets Zach take him one more time before the morning comes and he has to let him go.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zach keeps staring at the man sitting across from him, wondering if he’s dreaming this or not.  
“You know it’s true, Zach.”  
As if telling him that would make it any better.  
“If that’s true then, if you know the horrors that I’ve been through in past relationships, why would you do this to me now? Why would you leave me?”  
The man looks sad, some part of Zach observes, but for the life of him, he can’t understand why. Things have been fine, so why is that look on his face that of a stranger’s?  
“Because you need this,” he continues, “you need to see how far you’ve fallen off the track. When I leave... and you feel nothing...” his voice catches and the man’s hands ball into stubborn fists by his sides, “... hopefully then you’ll see.”  
“See? See what?”  
“That it doesn’t have to be like this – a lover alone without love.”  
Zach’s forehead creases in confusion, what does that mean?  
The man is getting up now, wearily – as if the effort of moving is too much for him. He holds out a small white envelope to Zach.  
“Here, take this. Don’t read it for a week or so, okay? Promise me?”  
Zach draws the envelope into his hand, running his thumb absently over its edges.  
“ _Promise_ me,” the man earnestly demands.  
Zach nods, his eyes never leaving the paper.  
“Goodbye, Zach. Don’t... don’t let the mask become you face...”  
Zach looks up, startled, but the dark wood of the door is already gliding closed with the restless breeze of his passing.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zach has found the experience of the last few days curiously lacking in emotion. His apartment doesn’t feel empty without the extra body; his bed feels no bigger, his life no smaller. His Iago is, perhaps, a little less intense than before but his work doesn’t truly concern him now – most of his concentration in the past few days has been spent on rolling those last few words around in his head:  
“ _Lover alone without love_.”  
What use is love? Better to rely on lust and convenience – the last few days are proof of that – he felt, he feels _nothing_ over this break-up and isn’t that better? Relationships without all of the complications?  
But some part of Zach, some small flicker of faded feeling whispers to him that no, there’s something very wrong with that. And you’ve fallen so very deep, so very far from the surface that you can barely see the shafts of sunlight playing through the water.  
Go home, the voice says, find that envelope. It’s the last throw of the lifesaver and you _have_ to rise to meet it or you’ll never see the play of light on dark again – just the dark, only the dark...  
Zach races home and he’s not entirely sure why.

His thumb is under the lip of the envelope, hesitating over that first step. A flick of the fingers and it rips, pulling the tear along the ridge of the paper until Zach can reach in and slide out the small sheet of unlined paper inside.  
It’s written in fountain pen ink – typical playwright, can’t help but keep to some of the stereotypes. The words take a little time to come into focus, trapped as they are in the flowing script of royal blue ink.  
It’s only a small poem, the same words repeating again and again but one line pulls Zach’s focus and he feels his eyes rivet to the liquid-blue fire.

 _What will happen?  
Lover alone without love.  
Will you miss him?  
Lover alone without love.  
Without love,  
Without love..._

It doesn’t matter how he knew, just that he did, Zach thinks as he stumbles to a chair, poem clutched in one hand.  
 _’Will you miss him?...’_  
He sits there for hours as the sun dies in the sky. He doesn't eat, he doesn’t sleep – he just keeps looking at that scrap of paper, letting the words blur together. The sun rises again and light catches him drowsing in the chair. The paper has fallen from his hand but it doesn’t matter – the words are seared across the back of his eyes, etched into the front of his mind.  
Thoughts flicker, half formed through his head, each more solid than the last until there is only one choice, one chance, one hope running through his mind.

The phone rings once, twice before he connects.  
“...Chris?”


End file.
